Nightmare's Keeper
by Windyfontaine
Summary: When the brothers investigate strange deaths in a town, Dean finds himself having nightmares of Sam dying. Will they figure out what is happening before Sam becomes the next victim? Now complete! And no Winchesters actually died in the making of this fic.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. Does dreaming about them give me any rights? (Looks up legal stuff, sighs) Nope, didn't think so.

A/N: No spoilers, just takes place sometime before the ending arc of the first season. Thanks to Beautiful Ally for help in naming this fic and telling me to keep going and Penguita38 for encouragement as well. If you need something to read, they're both good writers. I've already read their stories and am waiting for more updates :)

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_night·mare (nit'mâr) n,_

_1. A dream arousing feelings of intense fear, horror, and distress. _

_2. An event or experience that is intensely distressing. _

_3. A demon or spirit once thought to plague sleeping people. _

_-From the American Heritage Dictionary_

Chapter 1

Dean's mouth filled with water. He raised his head and shook it, spitting out the contents of the puddle he'd fallen in.

'Wish I had a beer' he thought.

Slowly raising himself up, he winced at the pain in his shoulder.

"Damn frisky poltergeist," he muttered.

He eyed the damp basement, not seeing the spirit or his brother anywhere.

"Sam?" he called.

It was silent, too silent, except for the constant dripping from the leaky faucet of the sink in the corner. It was stopped up and water continued to drip over onto the floor making a large puddle that Dean now sat in. He simply wasn't in the mood for this. It was supposed to be an easy job, and they were even going to get paid. The homeowners wanted to renovate and sell the place, but realized they couldn't until a certain problem was dealt with. Not knowing who to call, they had posted an ad in the local paper, which Dean had spotted as he and Sam stopped for lunch on their way to the next gig. Sam had been skeptical, but Dean had talked his brother into it.

"Hey, we get there, get rid of the ghost, get paid and get out. A couple of hours, max."

They were the first ones to respond to the ad, Dean assuring the homeowners that the spirit would soon be gone. Sam had argued with him.

"Dean, we don't have any research done on this house, we don't know the pattern, and we don't even know what we're up against."

"Look, the father said that the only place there was strange activity was the basement, and that nothing happened until they cleared out all the junk and started to renovate. Then things started flying around and the plumbing broke and they were too afraid to go down there. It's probably just a spirit that doesn't want to move on. We shoot a bunch of rock salt at it and see if there are any bones under the floor. Salt and burn, five hundred bucks. What's the problem?" he replied.

Sam had shaken his head but acquiesced. Now Dean was beginning to think his brother had been right. Not receiving an answer, he called out again.

"Sammy?"

A groan sounded, and Dean heaved himself up and made his way across the basement to where an empty bookcase had fallen over. A familiar jacket clad arm stuck out from underneath, and his brother moaned again.

"Hey Sam, I think I'll let you pick the next gig." Dean said, grabbing hold of the end of the bookcase and lifting it off of his dazed brother.

Sam blinked up at him and said, "Huh?"

"I said, next time we'll do some research first. You okay?"

Sam slowly sat up. "Yeah. Is now a good time to say I told you so?"

"No." Dean replied, giving his brother a hand up. "See where it went?"

Sam shook his head.

"Right, well let's see what this says about the floor," Dean continued, sweeping the EMF meter around.

He kept one eye on Sam, who was now sitting and rubbing his head. The EMF meter began to shrill, and Dean's attention was drawn to the dirt floor in another corner of the basement.

"Jackpot," he muttered. "Hey Sam, I found something."

"Dean, I really think we should leave and come back after we do some research."

"Or we can dig up the bones that are probably here and take care of this now, and be back on the road before dinner." Dean replied. "Hey, you could make yourself useful and grab a shovel."

"Fine," Sam muttered, "but then I'm driving."

"In your dreams," Dean grinned as he accepted the shovel Sam handed to him and began to dig.

Then he suddenly felt cold as the EMF meter beeped loudly and he heard his brother say "Dean!" in a warning voice.

"Shoot it and keep it busy, I'm almost there!" he said, digging faster.

No matter how hard or fast he dug, however, the hole wasn't getting any deeper. He grunted with effort, but the hole stayed the same size. He heard the blast of the salt-filled shotgun, and knew the only way to stop the ghost was to uncover the bones, but it was like digging through molasses. The shotgun sounded again, and his brother's cry of "Dean!" was abruptly cut off.

Dean immediately dropped the useless shovel and turned, his eyes widening in fear. Fear for Sam, who was hanging in midair, before he was thrown against another bookcase. The empty bookcase crashed to the floor along with his brother, everything seeming to happen in slow motion.

"Sam!" he cried, hearing echoes of his voice. Then there was silence.

He reached his brother's side not knowing how he got there. A cold dread settled over him, and he shook as he touched his brother's arm. The molasses feeling was back, and it took two tries to get the bookcase off of Sam. It didn't make a sound as it crashed back to the floor. Then Dean slowly leaned down and whispered, "Sammy?" His voice sounded tinny and small as he looked at his brother. Sam's neck was at an odd angle and his brother's usually vibrant gaze was fixed and unseeing. "Sam?" He began to breathe fast. "Sam?" He shook his brother, receiving no reaction. "Sammy? Say something. Please. Sam!" He gripped his brother's arm fiercely.

Sam just lay there, and Dean's anguished eyes looked around the now hated basement for anything that might help. The walls seemed to be swirling around him, a picture on one of them catching his attention briefly before disappearing. Then the coldness returned and he felt something tugging at Sam, trying to take his brother from his grasp. He fought the invisible spirit.

"NO!" he screamed, and bolted upright in bed. He was covered in sweat, and panting like he'd run a marathon. His chest felt tight.

Then a concerned voice was saying, "Dean! Hey, it's okay man, it was just a nightmare. Take it easy, you're okay."

Dean heaved in a breath and blinked, looking up into his brother's concerned eyes. His living eyes.

"Sam," he said gruffly, and Sam grinned.

"Here," Sam said, handing him a glass of water. Dean took it numbly. "That must have been some dream. You were thrashing around and woke me up. Uh, want to talk about it?"

Sam sat down on the edge of his bed, cocking his head and waiting patiently. Dean suddenly felt nauseous and quickly said, "Not right now," as he scrambled to get out of his bed and run to the bathroom. The cup fell on the motel's carpet as he hurtled to the sink and heaved his guts out.

"It's okay, you don't have to," Sam said as he picked up the fallen cup and looked at his brother in concern. He went to place a reassuring hand on Dean's shoulder, worried even more when Dean let him.

He swallowed. His brother didn't spook easily, so this dream must have been bad. Usually it was him waking his brother up with his own nightmares, now Dean had awakened him in the middle of the night. Sam wondered what it could have been about; Dean had been through so much. They both had. Whatever it was, he was going to be there for his brother, the way that Dean was always there for him.

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More to come soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: How do I own thee? Let me count the ways…Drat, none at all. I do not own Supernatural or its characters in the slightest. I do enjoy the heck out of the show, though. Thanks for the reviews!

Chapter 2

Sam surreptitiously took another look at his brother as they ate breakfast. Neither of them had been able to fall back asleep, so after a couple of hours of simply lying in their beds and not talking they had mutually decided to give up and start the day. Luckily the diner by the motel was open twenty four hours a day and early risers found a hot breakfast at five am not a problem.

"Dude, will you stop with the looks? It's freaking me out." Dean complained, fully aware that Sam was keeping him under scrutiny.

Sam ducked his head back down and pushed his eggs around his plate. Finally he looked up again and began, "You know-"

"Nope, not talking about it. Especially not while eating. I'm fine now, it was just a dream, let's just drop it." Dean said hurriedly.

Sam sighed and thought about his brother's aversion to chick flick moments. Knowing Dean his brother might never tell him what the nightmare was about without prodding but Sam decided to give him some space, for now. If this turned out to be a recurring problem then all bets were off.

"Okay," he finally said.

Dean raised his brows. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's pick up a paper on the way back and see if there were any more mysterious deaths."

"You got it." Dean was happy that Sam wasn't pushing him. He was also surprised, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Breakfast over, the brothers returned to their room, Dean flipping through a couple of newspapers and Sam surfing on the laptop.

Dean glanced occasionally at the notes they had made on the case before arriving in the town the night before.

"Find anything?" Sam asked.

"Not yet. Nothing new in the papers today, anyway. There have been five freaky deaths in this town in the last two weeks, and the police still have no leads. There doesn't seem to be any links between the victims either. Just the bodies turning up dead in the morning."

"The internet's a bust too. Just the same info here that brought us to this town."

Sam looked again at the page with "Monster causes death!" scrawled in large letters at the top under "Breaking News". It was a local tabloid apparently trying to bring sensation-seeking tourists to the town located only fifty miles from Evansville, home of the library ghost.

"_Monster causes death!_

_By Megan Bartlett_

_Denham, IN. _

_The body of Alistair Jarvis, 23, was found early this morning by local police after an anonymous tip led them to the alley behind the Bean Place coffeehouse. _

"_It was a mess," said Detective Frank Wand._

_This makes the fifth strange death this month so far, and if the police have any leads they aren't telling._

_When asked, Detective Wand said, "Well, I guess it could be a monster, because sure as shooting no person is doing this!"_

_The victim was literally torn apart, with limbs separated from the body. This follows the drowning death of Casper Knight who was found far from any bodies of water and the inexplicable death of Casey Huber whose body showed the trauma of a fall from a tall building-only he was found next to one-story tenements, not a single tall building in sight. _

"_I can't tell you what caused Mr. Jarvis' death; you'll have to wait for the coroner's report. It won't be pretty, though. Just be careful and stay indoors at night until we figure out what is happening," is the sage advice of the detective. _

_If anyone has any information that may help to find this creature, the Herald will offer a small award._

He didn't realize he'd read it aloud until Dean snorted. "You know that rag is probably just making some stuff up. No way real police would give statements like that. _I_ wouldn't," he said.

"Yeah, but we did confirm that those people did die, and that the cause of death couldn't be easily explained. The thing that bothers me is the different ways they died. The drowning could have been caused by a ghost, and the latest victim could have been attacked by a werewolf; I checked and the lunar cycle fits, but usually all these attacks don't happen at once. You think we're dealing with multiple problems, or some new weird thing?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "Won't know 'til we start looking. Can't hurt to be prepared for anything, though. Whose family should we visit first?"

"We should probably start with the first victim. I can do some more research in the local library, they might have more-" Sam began, but Dean instantly interrupted him.

"No!" Dean said sharply, images of falling bookcases immediately at the front of his mind.

Sam looked at him, startled.

"Uh, we should just start on the people before the trail's cold; we can always do more research later. Today is just to get an idea of what's out there." Dean hurriedly added.

Sam shook his head. "Whatever, dude. I'll get the name and address of the first and second victims and we'll start there." He turned his attention back to the laptop and began tapping keys in earnest, not noticing the troubled look his brother was giving him.

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"Well, that was a bust," Dean said as they exited the house's driveway. "No one was home to admire my new ID."

Sam had found the first victim's residence and they had gone there after carefully modifying a couple of press ID's to say they were from the Herald. George Tucker had apparently burned to death but no fires had been reported in the area. His entire family appeared to be out-which was one neat way to avoid reporters, Sam thought.

Seeing as no one was there to object, they had carefully snuck in and swept the house top to bottom with the EMF meter just to rule out ghostly activity, but it hadn't registered anything. It was just a normal house, with normal furniture. There was even a nice looking bed in one of the rooms, which Sam had thought for some strange reason looked familiar. At the lack of readings however he'd just shrugged and followed his brother back out of the house.

"Well, we can always try the second victim's house. Priscilla Johnson, found frozen to death even though the temperature here never got below sixty degrees. She lived with her sister Evelyn over on Arlington. Go west."

"West it is," Dean replied, swinging the car around.

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At their knock, a frazzled looking woman in a housecoat opened the door. There were circles under her eyes and she seemed to slump where she stood. She couldn't have been much more than thirty, Sam thought, but her careworn visage gave her an appearance much older than her years.

"What do you want?" She said in a tired voice.

"Hi, we're with the Herald," Dean said, flashing a bright smile and his ID, "and-"

"Whatever. Come in if you want. Watch your step, the maid hasn't been in," the woman said, cutting him off and turning away from the door to walk into the living room.

The brothers shared a glance, then followed, Sam closing the door gently behind him. Their hostess had seated herself on a long couch, which seemed to be doubling as a bed if the powder blue blanket was any indication. Various books and tissues were strewn around the carpet, and more books were piled on two armchairs a short distance from the couch.

"Well, you really weren't kidding about the maid, were you? I'm-" Dean began but was again cut off.

"Just push the books off the chairs, they haven't helped anyway. And you already interviewed me, or one of you vultures has, you're all the same. I just don't care anymore. At least your paper pretends like it believes me. I think I'm going to move away. Just go...away. So you might as well get your last interview out of me before I leave. What's the topic today? Aliens from space kidnapped my sister and put her in frozen hibernation only it went wrong so they returned her body? Actually, Pris would've liked that one. She was into all that science fiction stuff. So?" the woman said, now really looking at them.

Sam and Dean shot each other startled looks, and then Dean followed her advice and shoved the books off one chair, perching on the end of it. Sam gently gathered an armful from the chair by him and placed them on the floor nearby, noticing a pattern to the titles.

"You've been reading books on dreams and hypothermia? Actually miss, we just wanted some background. Anything you can tell us that you might not have already said to other reporters. Even if it might sound strange we're willing to listen." Sam said, settling into the chair and giving the grieving woman his best earnest look.

It must have worked, because she smiled a little and said, "Call me Evie. I'm sorry; I just haven't slept well since they found her. What was your name again?"

"Sam, and that's Dean," Sam replied, purposely ignoring his brother's horrified look. "I really meant it; anything at all you could tell us would be great. Even if you don't think we'd believe you."

"Well," Evie said, "I actually don't want you to believe me. I don't want to believe me either, because if it's true then I'm a monster."

"What do you mean? You didn't kill her, did you?" Dean asked, getting right to the point. Sam sighed.

"Of course not! I'd never harm Pris, I loved her. Besides, she'd of had to have gone to the Arctic to die in that short a period of time like that, and I don't exactly have the Arctic in my house. Or a cube of dry ice or one of those fancy cold fire extinguishers. I didn't buy bags of ice to put all over her body and I didn't lock her in a walk-in freezer. The police checked everything; you can probably get a report from them. All I know is, I went to sleep one night and she was asleep in the next room, and in the morning I get a call that my sister has been found blocks from the new coffeehouse, frozen to death, apparently instantly. And now it's being labeled as being caused by some kind of monster." Evie ducked her head, running her hands on the sides of her face.

"Then why do you think you're a monster?" Sam gently asked.

"Because I saw it, all right?" she said in a defeated voice.

"You saw it? I thought you were asleep." Dean said, confused.

"I was. I...I dreamed it. I saw it in a dream, and when I woke up she was dead for real." Evie said, looking at them with anguished eyes.

The brothers stared at each other, shocked.

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A/N: I made up the fictitious town and tabloid. However, Evansville really does boast a haunted library, and actually has ghost cams. Sometimes they work, sometimes not :) Just type haunted library in Google to find it. Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I don't own the Winchesters or the show Supernatural. I don't even own any AC/DC cd's which sucks because said show has got me hooked on their music. And now you can hear it in a weird commercial for "the Gap", of all things. Go figure. Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and this chapter is a little long, just couldn't stop. I considered breaking it up and then thought what the heck. Enjoy :)

Chapter 3

After a few moments, Dean ventured, "You saw it in a dream?"

Evie nodded, but before she could explain further the phone in the house rang. "I'm sorry, I have to get that. Her room is upstairs, second door on the left. All the others wanted a look; go ahead, I haven't changed anything. Just don't take anything."

She rose from the couch and walked off without looking behind her. Dean raised an eyebrow, and then the brothers rose as well and headed for the stairs.

Dean could feel Sam about to say something behind him as he began to ascend and shook his head, shooting a "not here" in the general vicinity of his brother. He was deliberately not thinking about it, fully into exploring his surroundings. From inside his jacket he took out his homemade EMF meter once he reached the landing, and began to pan it around.

No positive readings showed, however, even when he opened the second door on the left and carefully walked into the room. It was an ordinary bedroom, neat and clean, with nice looking furniture and nothing screaming 'something strange is here'. He opened the closet door, carefully, after seeing that Sam was there beside him and ready. Still no readings and the closet only contained neatly hung clothes and a filled shoe rack. Priscilla had obviously been an organized person.

He sighed, closing the door again. The only remotely interesting thing about the room was the bookcase in the corner filled with science fiction novels. Sam went over to have a look, and Dean wandered over to scan them, but didn't even get a peep out of the EMF meter. Shrugging, the brothers exited the bedroom, and just to be thorough, Dean opened the first door on the left. This bedroom was a little messier, with clothes strewn around and more books on dreams scattered all over. The modified walkman didn't tell any tales, however, so Dean turned to leave. He nudged Sam, who seemed to be looking at the furniture, and his brother nodded and followed him out. No readings screamed from the rest of the floor or the bathroom, so they went back downstairs. Evie was waiting for them.

"You looked in my room too, didn't you?" she asked without heat.

"Well, we-" Dean began, but she waved away his explanation.

"Don't bother; I know it's a mess. That was the realtor; she'll be here soon. I'm having the place sold. I decided I'm moving to a condo. Maybe get one that's furnished, I can't even sleep in my bed anymore." she said.

"Actually, I noticed that the furniture in your room was different from that in your sister's room." Sam said, hoping she would elaborate. Something was bothering him about it, but he couldn't quite pin down what it was.

"Yeah, Pris surprised me two weeks ago for my birthday, got me a whole new bedroom set. Now I can't even look at it; I've been sleeping on the couch since she…" Evie swallowed, and shook her head. "I'm sorry; I'm just not up for more questions right now. I need to clean up a little. Leave me one of your cards and maybe I'll call you. You're nice, you actually listened. I'm kinda interested to see what you make of things."

Dean had a card out and was placing it in her hand almost before she stopped speaking.

"Do you need any help?" Sam asked, waving around the book-cluttered living room.

Evie actually smiled at that. "No thanks, I can manage. Wait, do you have another card and a pen?"

Sam produced them and she took the pen and scribbled a number on the back of the card.

"It's my cell number, call me if you find out what happened," she said, handing the items back to him.

"We will," Sam promised her with an earnest smile. Then Evie shooed them out the door and closed it, and the brothers slowly walked to the Impala.

"Well, she was odd," Dean commented as he got in the driver's side.

"She was grieving; maybe it's not her normal behavior. Dean, the dream she had-"

"We don't even know what it was she saw. She never explained it. Maybe we should take a look at where some of these bodies were found; the houses the victims lived in are a bust." Dean said quickly, wanting to get Sam off the subject of dreams.

He'd be asking Dean about his next and for darn sure he didn't want to have to go over it. He knew Sam was going to obsess over this though. If this woman had really dreamed about her sister dying and it had come true...but Pricilla had frozen to death, not died in a fire. And she had been blocks away at the time. Something was definitely strange about this, but Dean wasn't going to make any assumptions until all the facts were in. The first victim had died in a fire, but what information Sam had dug up showed he also hadn't been at home at the time, he'd been found somewhere in the town, just like the others. The house hadn't burned, anyway, and they had found nothing odd. Like he'd told Sam, today's investigation was to get an idea of what was out there. If he didn't dream of falling bookcases tonight then they would visit the library and see what more they could find.

Sam grumbled but subsided, opening a local map with the locations of the strange deaths marked in X's. The tabloid had listed where the deaths had occurred, but then warned the public not to interfere in any police investigations of the areas. They definitely wanted the tourism, Sam thought.

He gave Dean directions to where George Tucker had been found and shortly they were pulling up beside a plain looking alleyway. Dean brought the EMF meter and a salt-filled shotgun, concealed beneath his jacket, and Sam dragged out the thermal scanner and shoved a gun loaded with silver bullets in his waistband.

They spent a few minutes checking things out in the empty area, but there were no cold spots and nothing beeped. There weren't even any charred markings on the ground, only a now grimy chalk outline.

Giving each other a shrug, they got back in the Impala and drove to the next X, where the drowning victim had been found. Again it was an alleyway, and again they got the same results, "A big fat zero," as Dean put it.

Once in the car again, Dean sat for a moment before starting it. Sam looked over at him, already with the map out and ready to give directions to the next location.

"I'm getting hungry, what say we check out that coffeehouse? I keep seeing it as we drive." Dean said, and now that he had mentioned it, Sam realized it was hours since breakfast.

"Okay," he replied, and was putting the map away when he stopped.

Dean had already put the car in gear when he glanced at his brother, noting the preoccupied look. "What?" he asked.

"Dean, did you notice something? All of these deaths occurred within blocks of this same coffee place. You think maybe it could be involved?" Sam asked, eyes shining with excitement at a possible lead.

Slowly Dean grinned. "Well, guess we'll just have to check it out then to see."

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The Bean Place coffeehouse was larger than they expected, with a wide L shaped serving counter and an airy room filled with comfortable looking chairs and tables. It was also very crowded, and Dean gestured with his chin for Sam to grab the only empty table by one of the windows while he went to place their order. Sam sighed but trudged over to it, unconsciously listening in on the conversations as he passed the other patrons.

"I can't believe it happened right behind here! There's still police tape up and everything!"

"It was a rabid dog. I heard howling the other night and made sure my Butch was inside. They ought to get animal control out to patrol the streets."

"-knew it was an ax murderer! I heard that some inmates escaped from that jail over-"

"-was the family, I bet, for the life insurance money, that brother of his will be set now-"

"-fifty percent off, I swear! And it's the genuine article too, the shop owner said so-"

Sam grinned at the last and plopped into the seat. He was joined shortly by Dean, who was holding a coffee in each hand and juggling a bag by the last two fingers of one of them.

"So, think anyone'll notice if we check them for possession?" Dean said, taking a ham and cheese croissant from the bag and then gulping a sip of coffee.

"I think they might," Sam drawled, taking out the other croissant.

They ate for a few minutes in silence, and then Sam said, "We could check out the latest place of death when we leave, apparently it's a tourist hot spot."

Dean nodded, and finished with the food he took a look around and then surreptitiously reached inside his jacket, Sam's eyes widening as he did so.

"You're going to check this place out now? With all these people here?" he asked, incredulous.

"Not like they're noticing. If you whine about it though you'll get attention we don't want. Just look like you're not doing anything-shouldn't be too hard." Dean smiled in glee, and Sam shook his head.

"Oh that's it. When we leave here I'm driving." Sam stated and Dean grinned.

"In your dreams," he replied, and then the smile dropped from his face with a lurch. Dean swallowed, and looked around again, and noticed a couple bookcases against the walls that he had somehow missed seeing through the crowd when they arrived. They were thankfully filled with volumes, but still...he shivered.

"Dean?" Sam asked, noticing that his brother had suddenly paled.

"We're leaving," Dean said abruptly, crumpling up the bag and then rising to walk to the nearest trash container to dump it. He tossed the empty coffee cup in as well, and Sam followed suit, mystified.

When Sam looked like he was about to check out the place anyway Dean grabbed an arm of the jacket, the same jacket Sam had worn in his dream, and literally tugged his brother out the door into the afternoon sunshine.

"What is your problem?" Sam hissed at him, getting worried.

"No problem, you were right, we can come back when it isn't crowded. Let's check out that alley." he said.

Sam shook his head and followed his brother to the alley behind the coffeehouse. No one was there, and again there were no readings, but there was police tape and a brighter chalk outline and dark patches on the ground that the brothers took to be dried blood. Dean looked around on the alley walls and yep, there were dark patches there as well. But no cold spots and the EMF didn't register anything.

"Well, it's not a ghost doing this, but this is definitely where the guy died. Something really tore him apart. But the MO is different than the other deaths. There's definitely something weird going on. We should come back here tonight, see if whatever is doing this shows up." Dean said. Privately he was happy that it didn't seem to be a ghost, but he was worried about the bookcases in a place that seemed to be the center of the strange deaths. He resolved to be on his guard, and that he wouldn't let Sam out of his sight.

Sam looked at his brother and said, "Okay, sounds like a plan. We might as well go check out the other places just to rule them out."

Dean nodded and they headed for the car, which was parked across the street from the coffeehouse. Sam stole looks at his brother as they walked; wondering what was up with him. Maybe he could get Dean to talk tonight while they waited for the thing causing the deaths, whatever it was. He wasn't going to let his brother go this alone.

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They drove around to the places where the other bodies had been found, but got the same results-no positive readings and nothing hinting at what could be causing the deaths.

Sam suggested they talk to the family of the third victim, Casper Knight, as it was just beginning to turn dusk. Dean agreed and drove the Impala to the address, and once again the brothers brought out their fake ID's. At their knock, however, there was no answer. There was still a car in the drive, and sound came from behind the door. Dean knocked again, and the sound grew louder; Sam recognized it as the sound of a vacuum cleaner. It suddenly shut off, and moments later the door opened.

"Yes?" a plump woman said, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore casual clothing and seemed a little out of breath.

"Hello ma'am, we're with the Herald and wondered if we could have a few minutes of your time?" Dean flashed the press credential and his famous grin.

"Oh, you must be here for the Knights. They aren't home, and I can't let you in." the woman said, about to close the door in their faces.

"That's okay, we'd like to talk with you too," Sam said quickly, employing his puppy dog look.

"Me? I just clean the place. I don't want no trouble," the lady in question said.

"It'll just be for a minute. We like to gather background material. We'll keep your name out of it if you like," Dean said, backing up his brother's plan.

The woman looked at them for a minute to gauge their sincerity, then shrugged and opened the door.

"Okay, but make it quick. And we have to talk outside, I know what you'll do if I let you in. Run all over the house to see what dirt you can dig up on the poor family, and them suffering this double sorrow now," the housekeeper said, stepping outside onto the walkway beside the brothers and firmly closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, double sorrow?" Sam asked, looking quickly at Dean.

"You haven't heard? I thought you press people were up on all the latest news. What rag did you say you were from?" she asked, a little suspicious.

"The Herald? You know, on the internet? And I'm Richie and this is Hugh, and you are?" Dean said, whipping out a notepad and pen, looking prepared to take down her name.

"Oh, that explains it then. You're just muckraking for theories on aliens or Bigfoot having done it then," the woman said, satisfied. "I'm Rosalie, but I'm not telling you my last name, I don't want to be that kind of famous. You just care about the strange death, not the ordinary one."

"Ordinary death?" Sam asked, beginning to feel like a parrot.

Rosalie sighed. "Well of course. Poor Casper was drowned in mysterious circumstances, but his brother only died the next night in his own bed. Heart attack," Rosalie confided.

"Wait, Casper's brother died the night after he did?" Dean asked to verify the facts.

"Why yes, when they found poor Casper, Edmund looked like he would keel over right then, at least that's what Mrs. Knight told Marilee, that's my supervisor. They're good friends. And then the next morning when he didn't come down for breakfast they found him in his bed. Damn shame," she said, shaking her head. Her watch beeped, and Rosalie looked at it in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I have to be going, but don't you mention me or what I told you, all right? Won't fit with your alien theory anyway, it's not like they were beamed up anywhere." Rosalie chuckled and then turned to go back inside, shutting the door on Sam's "Thanks for your time!"

The brothers looked at each other, and then headed back to the Impala.

"Dean, doesn't this case seem a bit odd to you?" Sam said as he settled in the passenger's side.

"Odd in what way?" Dean asked as he pulled the car back onto the road.

"Well, the victims all die in different ways, and we can't find a hint of any ghost activity, or any other clues, either in the places they died or in their homes, and one victim's sister saw her death in a dream and this one's brother died the night after he did? Something is definitely strange," Sam concluded.

"Yeah well, it's starting to get late. What say we head back to the motel and pick up dinner on the way, and then we can do some research online until it's late enough to check out the coffeehouse? We don't have all the facts yet and I'm not going to try and figure this out until we do," Dean said, privately agreeing with Sam. Something really was odd about this case. He couldn't help the worry that had gone through him after hearing that the victim had a brother and that they were now both dead, but he wasn't about to say anything yet.

"Fine," Sam said, settling back. He was worried too, but decided to wait until they had more information as well. "But this time you get to do the research online," he grinned, to lighten the mood. Dean only grunted.

----------

After picking up burgers and sodas at a fast food place they ended up back in the motel room, Sam idly flipping through the television's channels as he munched while Dean surfed on the laptop. A glimpse of a shaggy form made him pause at a channel. Then a wide grin split his face.

"Hey Dean? Guess what's on," Sam said.

Dean looked up from his research-which he admitted to himself wasn't going so well. Theories on the deaths ranged from UFO's to Blackbeard's ghost, apparently torturing the poor souls to find the location of treasure, never mind that the pirate had never been anywhere near this town nor indeed in this area of the country. "What?"

"It's a special on the Sasquatch," Sam continued to grin.

"Oh no, you're not serious?" Dean complained, and then as they continued to watch and the invisible announcer's voice tried to inject menace in his words about the sightings, he sighed. "Turn that garbage off; you know it's not real. They couldn't get their facts straight to save themselves," he continued, in a contemptuous voice.

"Well, what about the timing of this show? Maybe it was a Sasquatch that killed the latest victim. We don't have any other ideas right now," Sam said, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, right. First, no self-respecting Sasquatch would be in the middle of a populated town, second, they don't drown their victims or toss them mysteriously from tall buildings or freeze them with icy breath. Whatever is causing the deaths, it's not a Sasquatch," Dean said with finality, turning back to the laptop.

"Whatever you say," Sam grinned, and continued to watch the badly made documentary. Dean glanced up from time to time, shaking his head and then going back to the research.

He found a mention of Edmund Knight's death, but it was not labeled as odd. He'd been examined and was judged to have died of a heart attack, just as the housekeeper had said. One tabloid, apparently a competitor to the Herald, thought he had died of a broken heart; that the family was close and the brothers had been home on a break from graduate school. Dean shook his head, hoping that their stakeout would give them better results. He resolved not to think about things until he had more facts.

"About ready to go yet? That is, if you're done learning all the wrong information from television?" Dean said snidely, waving at the credits rolling on the screen.

"I suppose so," Sam grinned, stretching. It was dark out now, and as they headed for the car Sam couldn't help but needle his brother a little.

"We should check that alley for tracks, you know, big tracks in the blood that normal investigators would dismiss as being weird," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're a comedian now, is that it? I already said it wasn't a Sasquatch," he replied, now fighting his own grin.

"Well, you never know. Maybe it's a Sasquatch with a flame thrower and a fire hose, that likes to drop people from buildings while freezing them with its icy breath," Sam continued, barely able to contain his chuckles. "It would explain the deaths pretty well."

"Why do I even bother," Dean mock sighed, but he was fighting his own chuckles.

By the time they pulled up outside the Bean Place coffeehouse, however, they were both in serious hunting mode. In unison they swung around to the trunk, arming themselves and taking turns as lookout for any curious passersby. The area was deserted however, it was full dark and apparently the local populace had taken the warnings to stay indoors to heart.

Dean carefully picked the lock and undid the simple alarm system; apparently since the proprietors removed all the cash when they left for the day they didn't see the need in the small town for strong security measures.

The brothers entered carefully, but the coffeehouse was quiet and dark, with a few pools from the night lights left on to gently illuminate the area. The next two hours passed uneventfully. Again there were no strange readings. Dean made sure he kept Sam in his sight and away from the bookcases, but nothing was happening. As far as supernatural events went, the place was dead. Shrugging, Sam looked at him.

"We could check the alley," Dean said grudgingly. He was tired, and knew Sam was as well-they had started the day early.

They left, Dean resetting the alarm and locking the door, leaving the place as they had found it. He hadn't even stolen a cookie. Then they walked to the alley, again checking it out. It was as quiet as it had been earlier. Dean looked at the ground, noticing a lack of huge footprints, and caught Sam staring at him, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Shut up," he said, and Sam smiled. They waited in companionable silence for another hour, alert to any strange sounds, but nothing happened. Sighing, the brothers mutually decided to give up for the night. Dean even let Sam drive back to the motel, and too tired to go over any plans for the next day or bounce any more theories, outlandish or otherwise, they got ready for bed.

Dean listened as Sam's breathing soon evened out in sleep, and finally allowed himself to drift off.

_He was running, feet flying over the ground, to where he heard the screams coming from. _

'_No, no, no' he thought as he ran, 'I shouldn't have left him. We shouldn't have split up. This is my fault' he berated himself. They had found out what was causing the deaths in the town, it was a very pissed off ghost of a pirate. Dean hadn't believed it at first, but when it had suddenly materialized in front of them, EMF meter screaming a warning, he had put aside his disbelief and shot at it with rock salt. The ghost disappeared, and Sam suggested that maybe there really was a pirate haunting the town, and they had better find his bones. So they had split up to cover better territory, Dean knowing it was a bad idea but Sam had insisted he would be fine and he promised to keep in touch. He'd just called in to say he might have found the bones when suddenly he yelled in surprise._

"_Sam! Where are you?" Dean had shouted urgently into the phone and his brother had managed to gasp out a location when he suddenly screamed in pain. "I'm coming, hang on!" Dean said and started to run. _

_As he skidded around a corner and stared into a dark alley his heart seemed to jump into his mouth. "Sammy!" he screamed. _

_Sam's body was being suspended in the air, but not by a ghost. Two large hairy arms held his brother aloft with ease, and as Dean watched with horror, one of the large hands drew back and then slashed forward, and Sam screamed again, blood pouring from a fresh wound in his stomach. _

"_No!" Dean shouted, aiming and pulling the trigger of the shotgun. The salt-filled blast didn't even stagger the hairy beast; it reached forward again, this time slashing across Sam's throat. The scream became a gurgle, and his brother's terrified eyes met his before his body went limp._

"_Sam!" Dean screamed at the top of his lungs, firing until no shells were left. Evil looking eyes seemed to smirk at Dean, and then the creature dropped Sam as though he were a bag of potatoes and walked off, disappearing into the night._

"_Sammy, oh god, Sammy," Dean cried rushing to his brother's fallen body. He cradled Sam in his arms, not even realizing that he was sobbing. _

"_It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you, oh Sam, please be okay," Dean muttered over and over, seeing blood everywhere, his brother's blood, pouring onto the ground before he could stop it. _

_The walls of the alley seemed to whirl around him, and he shivered from sudden cold as he stared at the blood on the ground, it almost seemed to be forming a pattern, as though Sam was trying to tell him something with his blood. He could almost make out what it was when something began to tug at Sam, trying to take his brother away from him._

"_No! Sammy!" he gasped, kicking out at whatever was trying to take his brother from his grasp, when something was suddenly shaking him, hard._

"Dean! Wake up!" Dean heard Sam's voice and cracked open his eyes. He was breathing hard and his chest hurt, like his heart was breaking from what he'd dreamed.

"Sam?" he asked unsteadily. Sam's worried face was framed in the light of the lamp on the night table between their beds. There was no blood on him.

"Dean, you with me?" Sam asked, sounding a little relieved.

"Yeah," Dean swallowed a lump. "I'm awake," he said. He didn't think he ever wanted to sleep again.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I don't own Supernatural. Not the characters or even any weapons in the Impala's trunk. I did watch the CW launch party on TV though, but it only had the show mentioned briefly, sigh. Thanks again for the reviews; here ya go, Megan.

"Dean, please, what was your dream about? This is two nights in a row. Was it the same one?" Sam asked, staring at his brother in concern.

They were back in the diner, having mutually realized they wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. It was six am, and Dean had a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. Sam had insisted he order some food, so a plate of untouched toast sat on the table next to the coffee. Dean stared at the uneaten bagel in front of his brother and nodded to it.

"Aren't you going to have something? Got to keep your strength up," he replied, ignoring the question. There was absolutely no way he was going to share that dream with Sam. He didn't even want to think about it.

Sam sighed. "Not unless you eat something too," he said, gesturing to the toast.

They stared at each other a moment, and then each reached forward and lifted their respective breakfasts, taking a bite. Dean stared as Sam chewed and swallowed, his throat seeming to work just fine. He could almost imagine it covered in blood…He shook his head. It must be the lack of sleep, he thought. They had only managed a few hours before Dean's nightmare had awakened them.

"So, what was it about?" Sam persisted. He had been exhausted and fallen asleep quickly, only to startle awake to distressed noises from the other bed in the room. For a moment his sleep blurred eyes had thought they had seen a mist hanging above Dean's bed, but as soon as he arrived to shake his brother awake it was gone. It was probably a trick of the night lights from the parking lot outside streaming into the room through a crack in the curtains, his mind assured him once Dean was awake.

Still, while his brother was in the bathroom he'd taken out the EMF meter and swept around Dean's bed, just to be on the safe side. Then he had felt silly when no readings showed, either there or in the rest of the room. The salt line across the doorway and windows was untouched and nothing looked out of place. He had put away the device and hadn't mentioned the mist or checking the room to his brother-Dean looked like he had enough on his plate, he didn't need Sam's insubstantial fears bothering him.

Now he looked hard at the circles under Dean's eyes and his brother's pale face, realizing that was what he had probably looked like in the months just after Dean had taken him from Stanford. Now he was actually able to sleep without nightmares, at least some of the time. It seemed like their roles were reversed, Sam was ready to sleep dreamlessly through the night and his brother was awakening after only a few hours. Was it the town? Sam wondered. What he did know was that sharing the dreams made him feel a little less alone. He wanted his brother to know he supported him, and to feel that as well.

Dean avoided his gaze, however, and instead continued to eat the toast. He drained his coffee and raised his hand, attracting the attention of the middle-aged waitress. She bustled over with a pot in her hand, smiling as she refilled his cup. Sam made room in his cup for more coffee as well, and she poured the hot delicious smelling liquid into it. Then she paused, looking at them.

"Weren't you boys in here yesterday this time? You just early risers, or you can't sleep? And I'm Alice, by the way," she said with a smile, resting the coffeepot on the table. Obviously Alice was in the mood to chat.

"We're early risers" "He couldn't sleep" came out of their mouths at the same time.

"Well now, I'm sorry to hear that, especially after the motel got some new furniture last week. Supposed to be quality stuff, you are stayin' in the Sleepeasy motel right?"

"Yes, we are," Sam answered, something in what she said snagging his attention. "New furniture, did you say?"

"Why yes, there was a little fire in a few of the rooms, them smokers weren't careful enough and the manager had to redo them. Got brand new furniture in them after the rooms were redone; now it's nonsmoking and you can't tell them from the other rooms."

"Do you know which rooms?" the words were out of Sam's mouth before he could censor them.

Alice looked at him like he was a little slow. "Honey, I just told you that you couldn't tell them apart, now didn't I? And how would I know anyway? Now Ray, the manager, he could tell you, but he's away on that trip to Cincinnati, should be back tomorrow. Got his kid workin' for him, he's the one probably checked you in."

Dean nodded, vaguely remembering the freckle-faced young man who had taken his card without question.

"Will you boys be needin' anything else?"

Dean smiled his charming smile at her. "No thanks, just the check will do."

Alice shook her head, "You eat something hearty for dinner now, you keep eatin' like this and you'll be nothing but skin and bones." She wrote up the check and plopped it on the table. "Will I be seeing you tomorrow mornin'?"

"Probably. We're going to do a little sightseeing today," Dean said, deciding to act like the tourist she apparently took them to be.

"Well, you have a good day then. Bye now." Alice started to shuffle off, when Dean whipped out a ten and handed it to her along with the check.

"Keep the change," he said, adding a leer for good measure. Alice seemed to be a gold mine of information; they might need to pump her later.

Alice smiled, her eyes lighting up. "Now don't you go gettin' any ideas, I'm a married woman." She seemed thrilled despite her words however, and leaned down closer to Dean, affording him a look at her ample cleavage. "They opened some nice new shops downtown, and some of them are givin' half-off sales. Not far from the coffeehouse," she confided. "You can get some good deals. Not all the visitors to our town know about 'em though. You just say you're staying at Ray's place and Alice sent ya, and they'll take good care of you." She gave him a last smile and walked off with a swing in her hips.

Sam snorted, and Dean huffed out as he rose from the table, "Shut up."

"Now don't go getting any ideas, she's a married woman," Sam grinned at him.

"Didn't I say shut up?" Dean grumbled, but grabbed the last piece of toast from the table as they left, munching as they walked. He felt better, and hoped to put his nightmare far behind him. He decided they would visit the library next; it really was time for some heavy research. And he would make sure Sam stayed by his side.

----------

Dean hid a yawn behind his hand, the words blurring in front of his eyes for a moment. Sam was busy on the microfilm machine next to him in the small town library, researching the papers to see if there was any history of strange deaths in the town in previous years, trying to find a pattern.

Taking a page, so to speak, out of Evie's book, Dean had picked up several books on dreams, trying to figure out why he was having these nightmares. Sam had looked over his collection when his brother dropped them on the table next to him, but wisely had said nothing, continuing his research. Dean could see the curiosity burning in his brother's eyes but ignored it.

He flipped past the chapter on Adolescent dreams-yeah Sam would have a field day with comments if he read that-and focused his attention when he got to the chapter on nightmares. Taking a breath and rubbing his eyes, he leaned forward, absorbing the words on the page.

_Dreams about death rarely announce a physical demise. It can be a message from the unconscious to give our life new direction, signaling the end of a phase in a dreamer's life. It can be an emotional cleansing of the soul, a rebirth of a better self, or a change to a more positive approach to life's battles._

Dean shook his head; he wasn't about to quit hunting, and this book was just a little too touchy-feely for him. He picked up another.

_If you're being chased in your nightmare, it's important to think about the attributes of the pursuer. Are you wrestling with a masked stranger whom you would describe as overpowering, insistent, part-human, part-animal, and somewhat sexual? Perhaps that's a disowned aspect of your personality, and you need to pay more attention to your animalistic, untamed sexual desires_.

Dean snorted, getting a raised eyebrow from Sam. He quickly cleared his face of expression, and Sam went back to work, shaking his head. Well, that book was no help. It had nothing to do with his current nightmares, and his sex life was just fine, thank you very much. He put the book down, and then picked it up again, then put it back down firmly, covering it with some others so he wouldn't be tempted to read more. He was beginning to understand why Sam had a fascination with books; he'd had no idea this kind of stuff was in them. He randomly picked another volume off the table and flipped through it, stopping at a passage.

_The material that exists in our dreams may consist of fragments and residues of the preceding days and earlier times. Everything that appears in our dreams, though we may first regard it as a creation of our dream-life eventually turns out to be an unrecognized reproduction of things already experienced. The material originates from impressions and events which probably affected our senses more strongly than we realized, or from which our attention may have been quickly diverted. The less conscious yet more powerful an impression has been the more chance it has of playing a part in the next dream_.

Huh. Dean thought back unwillingly to his nightmare, and suddenly things clicked. He'd watched that special on the Sasquatch with Sam, only paying it little attention he thought, but the hairy beast from his dream definitely resembled the photo that had been claimed by the documentary to be a real sighting. The last person to die had been torn apart, blood everywhere, and they had been in that alley last night, and the alley in his dream could have been its twin. And what about the pirate ghost they were supposedly chasing? Then he remembered the research he'd been doing, and how it had mentioned UFO's and Blackbeard's ghost. And worry about Sam being harmed by one of the things that they hunted was a no brainer.

"Guess it's a good thing I didn't imagine little green men," he muttered to himself.

"What?" Sam asked, turning to look at him.

"Nothing, how's the research coming?"

Sam shrugged, frustrated. "It's not. There have been no previous mentions of strange deaths like this in the town. It isn't built on a burial ground, there are no mentions of curses, and their crime statistics before all this started happening were normal for a town this size. There's nothing to explain what is occurring here now."

"Hmm, well I guess we'll just have to see the families of the other victims then today, see if what's taking place here is actually more related to the people than the town itself."

"Sounds good. Umm, you need any help with those?" Sam asked, gesturing to the dream books.

Dean hastily put the one he'd been reading from aside. "Nope, I'm good. I'll put these away while you get the addresses of where we're going."

Sam sighed. "Dean, maybe it would help if you talked about it."

"Not right now. Places to go, people to see, a monster's ass to kick. Get cracking." Dean rose from his seat, picking up the books.

Sam grumbled as he turned back to gather the information needed. Dean walked slowly back to the section he'd gotten the books from, mulling over the dream he had the first night in town. He had the second dream explained, but why…then he gave a sharp nod. That haunted library was not far from the town, and Sam had remarked upon it on the drive here. Haunted library, ghost to fight and falling bookcases. It made sense. He felt a bit of relief, now knowing where his dreams had come from. These books had actually helped. 'Guess I can't keep teasing him about being a 'geek boy' he thought ruefully.

He returned to the table they had been occupying and saw that Sam was ready to go. "So who are we visiting next?" he asked briskly.

Sam looked over at his brother, noticing the slightly straighter posture and the more normal tone of voice. 'Guess he found something in the books to help,' he thought. That still wouldn't let Dean off the hook, but he'd ask his brother about the dreams later; maybe he would be more forthcoming now that it seemed like he felt better.

"The family of victim number four, Casey Huber," Sam replied.

"The one that died from falling?" Dean asked as they headed to the Impala.

"Yeah. Lived with a roommate on Paterson Street. The roommate is probably at work, but the family might be home. They lived on the same street; apparently Casey didn't stray far when he left home."

"Okay," Dean replied, and drove to the address Sam indicated. The door opened to show them a burly man holding a half-filled glass.

"Mr. Huber?" Sam asked gently.

The man sighed and nodded. "More of you?" he said, waving away their credentials. "Doesn't matter. You're probably here about Justin, right? His family is here too. You can only stay a minute, so get your muckraking done with, and then don't bother us again."

He opened the door wider and walked a little unsteadily into the spacious living room. It had two sofas filled with people and various chairs scattered around. Two older women were seated closely beside one another, looking at an album of photographs. The brothers slowly walked into the room, noticing another older man with thinning hair sitting next to a young woman. They were talking in low tones. A young man about their age was in one of the chairs, and rose to take the glass from Mr. Huber's hand. He gave it over with no protest. All the people looked up when the Winchesters entered. The young woman rose and stalked angrily over to them.

"Look, just because Justin died the day after Casey doesn't mean it's anything but a coincidence, okay? Yes, they were close friends but our family has a history of heart attacks. So don't you say it was something weird, okay? Because I really think someone murdered Case, because he wouldn't jump. I know him, I, I knew him almost as well as I did my brother, and, and..." she stopped, her voice catching on a sob. The man she'd been sitting with immediately came over and gave her a hug, and urged her to sit once again.

Dean turned to Sam, shooting him a look that said Sam was falling down on the job as researcher.

"I'm sorry, we weren't aware that..." he began to say.

"No, it's not in the other papers yet that Casey's roommate is dead as well. We were trying to keep it quiet and thought you found out. I'm Brandon, a friend of theirs. We were just figuring out how to handle the press when you came. So fine, now you know. It was natural causes, like Tina says they have a history. So you can go sniff somewhere else for a story."

The brothers looked at each other, but before they could say anything else Tina began to cry in earnest, and the two women rose from the sofa with threatening looks. "You had better leave," said one of the women.

"Okay, okay, we're going," Dean said, slowly backing away. As they retreated to the door, Sam tried to get a question in.

"Just one thing, did either of them mention anything odd or different, anything at all, happening in their lives before their deaths?" he directed the question to Brandon, who seemed more with it than the others.

"Justin had insomnia; Tina helped him redecorate that week, bought new furniture, thought a new room would help him sleep better, but he never said he did before he..." Brandon shook his head, and then continued as he ushered them out the door, "look, it's a mystery how Casey died, but Justin was really torn up about it. I mean a lot, and I think it put pressure on his heart. We all told him not to sleep there alone after they found Casey like that, but he did anyway and was dead in the morning. It really was a heart attack, so don't say anything negative, okay? And don't bother us again." He shut the door in the brothers' faces, and the two slowly made their way back to the car.

"New furniture," Sam said.

"Roommate's dead," Dean added.

"There's a pattern in this somewhere, Dean. I can feel it," Sam said, getting excited.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Hey, it's time for lunch; I could go for a burger. We can figure it out after we eat."

"No coffeehouse today?" Sam grinned.

Dean shook his head. "Actually, everything seems to happen in the area around that coffeehouse. Maybe we should see if any of the victims went there on a regular basis. But food first."

"I'm sure there must be a place to eat in that area. According to Alice there are a lot of nice new shops there."

Dean rolled his eyes and put the car in gear. They did find a diner and settled in a booth near the door, placing their orders. The food came quickly as it was the tail end of the lunch rush, and they mulled over the clues they had after they ate, engrossed in their conversation.

"So you think the victims might have gotten the furniture at the same place?" Sam asked. "I mean that can't just be coincidence."

"We did check out the houses we could though and there weren't any readings. Anything in the journal?"

Sam shook his head. "I didn't know what to look for. Random deaths like these didn't have enough of a pattern to-"

He was interrupted by a scream from their waitress. The brothers rose as one, turning to look at the woman who was standing by the cash register.

The brown haired waitress was staring in fear at a man that had just walked in. The man had his back to them, but Sam yelled "Hey!" and he turned around. Time froze for Dean when he saw the man held a gun-and it was now pointed at his brother.

TBC

A/N: The stuff on dreams is actually paraphrased from real books; _Dream Symbols A to Z, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Interpreting Your Dreams_, and _Sigmund Freud's The Interpretation of Dreams_. Let me tell you, some of what is in them is even crazier than what I used. Hope you enjoyed, and have a great day!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. But I soon hope to own the DVD set, when I save enough from my part-time paychecks to buy it. Thanks for the reviews, Megan, Beautiful Ally and everyone :)

----------

"Give me the money, or I'll shoot him," the dark haired man said, grinning as though at a private joke.

Sam's eyes widened when he saw the gun now aimed at him, but then he frowned, something was off about it…

"Don't hurt him! Please! Here, I'll give you the money in the register. There isn't much, the manager took the deposit earlier, but you can have it, just please don't hurt anyone!" the brown haired waitress cried, her hand grabbing the bills and holding them out toward the robber.

Dean swallowed, his heart plummeting to his shoes, his eyes never leaving the gun pointed at his brother. His hand itched to go for a weapon; with a mental curse he realized he wasn't carrying. Part of him was hoping that this was a dream too, but he knew that it was real. The waitress' terrified reaction confirmed it. The man's arm never wavered; he was confidently leveling the gun at Sam's chest. Suddenly he was angry, enough to overwhelm the stark fear he felt; no one threatened his brother and got away with it.

"Hey fugly, you haven't got the guts!" he shouted at the man, hoping the weapon's aim would shift to him.

The tactic was successful; the robber turned to face him, the gun swerving away from Sam. Before the man could aim it at Dean, Sam moved. His hand swept out and up, hitting the robber's gun hand from underneath and jerking it skyward. Then Sam punched the robber hard in the face and reached for the weapon. By this time Dean was moving too. He grabbed the man's other arm and twisted it savagely behind him. The man moaned and released the gun, Sam taking it and stepping back. Then Dean propelled the man forward until he hit the cash register with a grunt. He let go of the robber's arm and kicked him behind the knee, then delivered a hard punch to the side of the man's head. The robber fell, and Dean kicked him a few times before finally kicking him in the jaw, snapping the man's head back. The robber slumped to the ground, unconscious, blood trickling from his nose and mouth.

Dean panted, breath heaving in and out of his chest, glaring at his fallen opponent. Then he turned, feeling a flash of panic until he saw Sam standing just a few feet away, apparently undamaged and closely examining the gun, holding it carefully with a napkin he'd picked up off of a table.

"Oh my god! I'll call the police!" the waitress said, reaching for the phone on the counter beside the cash register. She hastily dumped the money she held back into the register. The few people in the diner who had been finishing their lunch were all on their feet, exclaiming and pointing and talking loudly. Apparently the commotion had brought attention, as a few people tentatively came out from behind the double doors that presumably led to where the food preparation area was.

"Sam, you okay?" Dean said, his attention switching between keeping his eyes on the piece of garbage at his feet and his brother, who seemed to be distracted. He quickly glanced from the top of Sam's head to his feet, relieved that his brother seemed perfectly all right.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam said. Then he looked at his brother, an incredulous expression on his face. "Dean, this isn't even real!"

"What?" Dean asked, turning to face Sam fully. One of the people who had come out from behind the doors was holding a heavy frying pan like a bat and another was holding a carving knife. Their attention was immediately on the unmoving man on the floor that the waitress wordlessly pointed to.

"I mean it's not a real gun. It's a lighter." Sam said, using the napkin to pull back the hammer on the 'gun'. A reddish flame leapt out of the top of the barrel. He released it and the flame winked out.

He carefully lay the gun down on the counter next to the cash register, where the waitress and the others stared at it in shock.

"You mean he tried to rob us with a fake gun?" the man with the frying pan asked.

"Looks that way," Sam replied, turning to glance at Dean.

Dean stood a few feet away from the would-be robber, beginning to feel the adrenaline rush leave his body. He could feel himself begin to shake with pent up fear, rage and relief. Sam was okay, and had never been in danger.

"Son of a-" he began, turning back to the unconscious heap on the floor, ready to do something to take out his frustration, he didn't know what, when Sam gently laid his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Dude, I'm fine, and everything's okay. Let's let the police handle him," Sam said, knowing full well what his brother was ready to do.

The faint sound of sirens could be heard, getting louder and louder.

"I got him. Thanks anyway, man that was good. You a cop or something? I'm Saul," the man with the frying pan said to Dean, taking up a stance next to the robber on the floor, hefting the heavy frying pan with ease.

"No, we're just tourists passing through. Wanted to check out the shops downtown. We're staying at Ray's place and Alice at the diner said there would be great deals here. Can't say I much care for the hospitality, though," Dean said, sticking to the cover story Alice had provided them.

"Hi, I'm Vince, the manager," a tall man with a polo shirt with the words "Downtown Diner" emblazoned on the pocket said. "You're staying at the Sleepeasy motel then. Look, this kind of thing doesn't normally happen. One of those novelty shops opened down the street and they carry all kinds of things, this guy must've picked this up and thought he could make some fast cash. Thanks for stopping him. Your meals are on the house, and I hope you don't decide to cut short your visit here. You can really get some good deals."

By now the sirens were sounding right outside the diner, before cutting off. Moments later two uniformed policemen entered. Their eyes swept from the unconscious man on the floor to the manager and diner employees to Dean, Sam and the few patrons who had now fallen quiet.

"Okay, so someone want to tell me what happened here?" One of the cops asked.

Dean looked at his brother, who shrugged, and then both looked at the manager.

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Two hours later the brothers were back in the car. Two more police officers had arrived, and the would-be robber had been arrested for suspicion of possessing an imitation firearm, with intent to cause fear and armed robbery. He had woken up and tried to claim it was a practical joke, but the waitress, whose name was Annie, had vehemently declared that she believed he was robbing the diner. Dean and Sam backed her up, and the few diner patrons had eagerly corroborated their story, along with Saul who had seen it happen through the glass in the double doors.

Sam had been willing to go to the police station to give a statement, thinking that while they were there they could see if they could get a look at the coroner's report on the strange deaths, but Dean had claimed not to be feeling well and had asked if they could be saved the trip. Sam had looked at him, but his brother was adamant, and the police were satisfied with just taking everyone's statement at the diner. They asked for the brothers' cell phone numbers and took down where they were staying in case they needed to be contacted later on.

Then the police carted off the would-be robber in handcuffs and put the gun lighter carefully in an evidence bag, taking that along with them too. One officer had shaken his head as he stared at it.

"I guess it's lucky that it wasn't a real gun, but the way you boys handled it I suppose it wouldn't have mattered. I think we're going to have to see about getting a ban on replica guns in the town, so that that novelty shop won't sell them. Wouldn't want this happening again. There is a new furniture place right next door and they do a lot of business, people could get scared if someone tried to rob it with a fake gun, and scared people can cause problems. Well, we'll call you if we need anything further; enjoy the rest of your stay."

"Wait!" Sam said, an eager look in his eye. "You said there is a new furniture place?"

"Yes, Gutvik's furniture. Quality stuff, some from other countries. Why, are you interested in buying some and having it shipped?"

"Yeah, we might be. Thanks man," Sam said, and the officer nodded and left.

The brothers had shortly taken their leave of the diner as well, with Annie and the other employees hoping that they would return. Sam tried to ask them about the odd deaths, thinking that they would be in the mood now to freely share any information or ideas they might have had but Dean hustled him out the door before he could do more than say hey.

As the Impala pulled away from the diner, Sam turned to his brother.

"Dude, what is your problem? We could have learned some facts from the locals. And you didn't even look at Annie, and she was into you. What is up with you, man?"

"Just tired. Think we'll head back to the motel and call it an early day." Dean responded, looking at the road and not his brother.

"It's four in the afternoon!" Sam exclaimed, and then took a closer look at his brother, noticing the paleness and circles under his eyes again. "Then again, you do look beat. At least we've got another lead. Going to try to sleep?"

Dean shuddered at the thought. "Just going to take it easy. Maybe clean the weapons."

Sam nodded and there was silence in the car until they pulled up at the motel.

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Sam grabbed a newspaper from the machine by the vending machines at the motel, where Dean stocked up on snacks. Neither wanted to go to another diner for dinner later. Once inside their room, Dean laid a fresh salt line across the windowsills and doorway, and made sure there was a knife under his pillow and a gun on the night table. Then he settled down to weapons maintenance.

Sam watched his brother quietly, then shook his head and sat in the chair by the small table in their room, opening the newspaper. If Dean needed time, he'd give it to him. Maybe he could find out something anyway. He scanned the headlines, but there was nothing new to catch his interest. On the third page in the police beat section he found a mention of the latest strange death of Alistair Jarvis. It said that the coroner's report had stated that the cause of death had been blood loss. Sam snorted. Seeing as parts of the victim's body had been torn off, it wasn't surprising. The police still had no leads as to what could have happened. Sighing, he closed the paper. As he did a flyer fell out. Mildly curious, he picked it up, and his interest piqued as he read the ad.

"Gutvik's furniture is still celebrating its Grand Opening! Come check out our great deals, and enjoy a free meal at our new Bistro! Pick up your coupon at the register as you leave. Brand new stock arriving weekly." There were pictures of furniture sets and prices, desks, lamps, and beds. So far as he could tell, the stuff looked reasonably priced. He folded the paper, which had their address and hours, and set it aside for the next day. He took out the laptop and tried to see what he could find, and soon the clatter of tapping keys could be heard.

Dean began to slowly unwind as the calming activity of cleaning the guns relaxed him. Hearing the soothing sound of Sam at work, alive and in one piece, settled something that had been an anxious ball inside since seeing the gun pointed at his brother. He made sure he did a thorough job; if anything threatened Sam again he was going to be sure the weapon he used to kill it wouldn't jam.

Two hours later the weapons were done and Sam was closing the laptop. "Find anything?" Dean asked, the first time he'd said something to his brother since they arrived at the motel.

"Nope. There is no single creature that kills in all those ways. Fire, cold, dropping from a height, drowning and ripping to shreds. Either we're dealing with a few different things, or it's something new. Something to do with furniture?" Sam shook his head. "Oh! I got a flyer from the paper for that place, Gutvik's; we can check it out tomorrow. The net is a bust."

"Okay, and maybe we can talk to the family of the Jarvis guy." Dean said, putting away the last gun. "Mind if I take the first shower?"

"Go ahead, just leave some hot water," Sam replied, stretching.

Dean let the water beat down on him, releasing the last of his pent up fear with the bubbles swirling down the drain. Sam was going to want to talk about it, he knew. His reaction of grabbing his brother and going straight back to the motel when there was still time to check out some things hadn't gone by unnoticed. He just felt he needed to get Sam to safety, where would-be robbers with either fake or real guns couldn't threaten him. He didn't want to leave the motel room until it was bright daylight, just to be on the safe side. They didn't know what they were dealing with, and usually those things always went after Sam. Until he had a handle on what the creature was and how to kill it he didn't want to take any risks.

He emerged from the bathroom toweling his hair, feeling much better. He hoped he could put off the talk until the morning. Sam was stretched out on his bed, snacks laid out for both of them on the table where he'd been using the laptop. Dean gave his brother a half grin, and Sam smiled back, and suddenly things were all right again.

"Tomorrow we talk; tonight you're off the hook. Leave the Cheetos." Sam said as he disappeared into the bathroom. Dean shook his head, sometimes he wondered if his brother could mind read. He deliberately picked up the bag of cheesy snacks, about to open it when Sam stuck his head around the door. "I'll share them with you, okay?" then he shut the door and the shower started. Dean grinned, nope, his brother just knew him well.

"Hey!" came a squawk from the bathroom. Apparently Sam didn't know him well enough. Dean grinned; he wondered if the water had turned cold just as his brother had soaped up. Sam glared at him when he returned to the main room, and Dean offered some Cheetos as a peace offering. Grumbling, Sam accepted it.

A couple hours later they were done munching and had just finished watching an inane comedy on the television while lying in their respective beds. Even though it was just late evening Sam was beginning to nod off, and Dean finally said, "Hey, why don't you just go to sleep?"

"You first, you need it. You look like a raccoon." Sam yawned.

"Naw, I'll just see what new products we could use." Dean had changed the channel and there was an interesting show just coming on about futuristic gadgets. Dean checked the channel; it was all about science. He shrugged, and settled in to watch. Sam yawned again, wanting to outlast his brother, but the lack of sleep the last couple nights was catching up with him.

"Just try to sleep a little, okay?" he said.

"Sure, when we catch the thing," Dean replied. Although he now figured he knew what was causing his nightmares, he was in no rush to have another one.

However, as Sam gave up the fight to stay awake and his breathing evened out into sleep, Dean was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. He was blearily watching the host go on about a high tech UV water purifier when his body dragged him into sleep.

As the lights from the television flickered in the room, a white mist began to coalesce into being, unobserved by the sleeping hunters.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I still don't own the show Supernatural or any of its characters. I'm working on winning the lottery though. Do you think they would sell shares? Thanks for the reviews!

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In room fourteen of the Sleepeasy motel, had the curtains been pulled back, an observer would have seen flashes of light from late night programming on the television. The observer would also have seen a white mist coalesce into being, taking up residence in the air above a sleeping form in the bed closest to the motel door. However, no observer was out that night, and the curtains were drawn, so no one could see the mist turn into a figure that slowly settled on the chest of the man in the bed. He began to twist and turn, emitting distressed noises as he fell into the grip of his worst nightmare…

Dean gasped for breath, having run far into the woods after the hairy figure. He stopped for moment, chest heaving, and turned to his right. Sam was there, also breathing hard. Sam looked at him, nodded, and took off again, and Dean followed.

'Darn long legs' Dean thought as he followed his brother. They had tracked the creature responsible for killing the people in the town, and this time Dean was prepared. A gun loaded with silver bullets dipped in holy water was in a special holster he wore. It would be easy and quick to reach it and grasp the weapon. He also carried a salt gun and a hunting knife. At least one of the items would be effective.

"Sam, wait!" he called. His brother was armed as well, but Dean didn't like the distance growing between them. 'Stupid trees' he thought as the trunks blocked his view of his brother, who had turned a corner of the path they were on. It was night, and the stars and three-quarters moon provided their only illumination, which was patchy through the clouds above. Dean panted, and a shiver ran through him as he heard a high pitched cry. The voice wasn't human, and he hurried his pace around the bend of the trail and then stopped short, already fearing what he would see.

Sam wasn't being held by the creature however. He was lying on the ground breathing heavily, the creature looming above him, its furry arm raised.

"Not this time," Dean growled, pulling out the silver bullet gun quickly. He cocked it, aimed and fired, and the hairy beast jerked, having already started to move. Dean fired again as a cloud passed overhead, making the area dark. He vaguely saw a shape heading towards him, and fired twice point blank. He heard grunts as the bullets hit flesh and bone, and then a moan. Then the clouds completely cleared, and moonlight streamed onto the path, visibly revealing the scene in front of him.

Dean's eyes widened and he began to shake, the gun dropping unnoticed from his trembling hand. He stared at the scene in front of him in shock. Being held in front of the creature like a human shield, Sam was gasping, blood running down his chin to drop onto the path. His chest was dark and wet, and liquid ran down his front to pool at his feet.

His brother's pain filled betrayed look met his gaze, and Dean's heart felt like it stopped.

"NO!" he cried, in almost as much agony as Sam, as the creature released its hold on the younger brother, letting Sam slide to the ground, growling in triumph. Then the hairy beast simply left, striding away confidently, seemingly unworried that it would be followed. It wasn't. Dean was too busy stumbling forward to slump at Sam's side.

"Sam! Sammy!" Dean sobbed, his breath hitching in his chest as he heard the rattling in Sam's chest when his brother tried to take a breath. "You're going to be all right. I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry!" he mumbled as he took a closer look at Sam's chest. He gently pulled open his brother's clothing, wiping the blood away, and saw two bullet holes. His throat constricted as blood then continued to pour from the wounds.

Sam's mouth was opening and closing, his eyes filled with fear and shock. "W-W-Why?" he finally managed to whisper, his chest emitting a sucking sound.

Dean was holding him now, his hand pressing his jacket against the wounds, trying in vain to stem to flow of blood.

"Oh god Sammy, I'm sorry, so sorry," he repeated over and over, like a mantra. Sam jerked and shuddered in his arms. He whispered something, and Dean pressed his ear close to his brother's mouth so he could hear.

"You s-s-said you w-would p-p-pr-pro-tect me." Sam's voice accused him. "Th-that n-nothing b-bad would h-happen to m-me while y-you w-were around. You k-killed me."

"It was an accident Sammy; I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, so so sorry!" Dean broke down, tears beginning to run down his face, dropping onto Sam's, mixing with the blood leaking from his little brother's mouth to drip onto the cold soil beneath them.

"I tr-trusted you," Sam whispered, and then seized; his entire body tightening. Then he seemed to sigh, and relaxed.

"Sam? Sammy? Sam no! Please no!" Dean cried, his fingers moving to Sam's neck. No pulse beat beneath them, and no breath stirred his brother's body. "Oh please, please no. Not you. Sam, please!" Dean mumbled, not even aware of what he was saying. His heart was heavy in his chest, and he was gasping like Sam had been only moments before. Shaking, he brushed his brother's sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes, which were staring forward, unseeing. He left red streaks of blood on Sam's forehead, and something snapped inside.

"NO!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Then something began to tug at his brother, trying to take Sam away from him. "Leave him alone!" he growled, as the forest around him seemed to swirl. He heard a cackling laugh, and saw a figure with its arms outstretched. A misty face appeared, and the milky hands snatched at Sam's body.

"No, you can't have him! No, no," Dean repeated as gasped for breath, pain filling his chest. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun going off, followed by his name being called.

"Dean!" Sam's voice shouted, and Dean felt himself being shaken, his thumb being pulled. Disoriented, he blinked awake, seeing the motel's unusually clean ceiling come into view. Then he recoiled instinctively as a face filled his view; a face that he had last seen covered in blood.

"Sam?"

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Sam was sleeping, a rare dreamless sleep, when noises began to penetrate his consciousness. Suddenly he was wide awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, blinking as he tried to figure out what had woken him. He looked towards his brother's bed, and gasped. A figure was sitting on top of Dean's chest. Dean was breathing hard and emitting distressed noises. Sam rubbed his eyes and looked again. As if sensing his appraisal, the misty looking miniature figure of a fat woman turned to glare at him.

"Hey!" he said, reaching for the gun on the night table. The misty form hissed at him and struck out.

Sam gasped in pain as it sliced across his arm. Red blood welled up and began to drip from his forearm as he grabbed the gun, cocked it and fired.

The bullet passed right through the vaporous being without seeming to affect it. The indistinct woman snarled at him and sliced outwards again, ripping the T-shirt he'd worn to bed and causing a line of red to appear across his chest.

"Dean!" he shouted, recoiling at the pain. He reached forward carefully, trying to wake his brother without being attacked again. He grabbed the closest part of Dean he could find, grasping his thumb and pulling, trying to shake him awake.

The figure on Dean's chest screeched and struck out at him again, and Sam barely avoided its touch. Then he stared in shock as the figure became completely transparent, turning into a white mist before his eyes. Then the mist moved towards the bedpost of Dean's bed, flowing into it as though being sucked in, like a genie being sucked back into its bottle. In a matter of moments it was gone, and Dean was blinking awake.

Sam leaned over his brother, both fascinated by what had just happened and worried about Dean's harsh breathing.

"Sam?" Dean asked, trying to orient himself. It had just been a dream right? Sam was alive. Sam was alive!

"Sam!" he said, trying to get up. The pain in his chest had lessened, and he wasn't gasping anymore.

"Hey, thought you'd never wake up. Are you okay?" Sam asked, a concerned look on his face. He reached forward to touch his brother's shoulder and reassure himself that Dean was all right. As he did Dean was reaching out as well for the same reason.

Sam gasped as the movement re-ignited the fire across his chest, and his forearm began to throb.

Dean's eyes widened as he saw the blood dripping down Sam's front, his eyes tracking the droplets as they fell. Blood from the wound on his brother's arm dripped onto the sheet beside him, and he began to shake, his breath catching in his throat.

"Sammy? This is a dream, right? You're not really hurt? You're not dead? I can't...I can't go through that again." he whispered.

"What?" Sam asked, his brows furrowed. "Dean, you're awake. I'm okay, well; it's just a flesh wound. Hurts like a bitch, but I'll live." he said. "There was this thing sitting on your chest, and you were having trouble breathing. Are you all right?"

Dean shook his head, his eyes still on the blood as it oozed from the slit in his brother's T-shirt. He swallowed, his heart beating faster.

"Sam? This isn't a dream?" Hesitantly, as though in a daze, Dean moved his hand to the tear in Sam's shirt, feeling the slickness of the liquid on his fingers.

Sam's hand suddenly covered Dean's.

"Dude, chill. I'm okay. I'll get the first aid kit, all right?"

The worry in his brother's voice was what finally snapped him out of his trance-like state.

"Yeah, I'll go with you," Dean said, pulling his hand back, glancing at Sam's concerned expression. Why was Sam worried about him? Sam was the one who was hurt. Sam was the one who d-Dean put a stop to that thought immediately. Sam was alive, not dead. It had just been a dream. Then why was he hurt?

"Sam, how did you get hurt?" he suddenly demanded.

"Look, first, the kit is right there in the bathroom, I don't need help to get it, and second, we'll talk after I stop bleeding. Are you all right?" Sam was concerned about the way Dean was behaving. It wasn't at all like his cocky brother to act like this, like his world had been torn apart. He had to make Dean tell him about his dreams-especially in light of the fact that it now seemed they had some sort of dream monster on their hands.

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Dean insisted on getting up and going with Sam to get the first aid kit. Flipping the toilet seat lid down, he had Sam sit on top of it as he opened the kit, the bathroom's light shining harshly onto the blood soaked ripped T-shirt Sam wore.

"Take off the shirt, I'll be right back," Dean said gruffly, tearing his eyes away from the sight of his wounded brother.

He stumbled to his bag in the other room, grabbing the bottle of holy water that had the squirt top. He just had a feeling he might need it. He was back in the bathroom in moments, just in time to see Sam grimace as he finally removed his shirt, tossing the ruined clothing into the garbage. Sam's arm was bleeding freely, and Dean growled in his throat. Something had hurt his brother, and whatever it was was going to pay.

"I can do this myself," Sam attempted, eyeing the bottle of holy water, but he didn't hold out much hope. Dean was in full on big brother mode, and simply glanced at him as he laid out the things he would need from the first aid kit on the bathtub's wide ledge.

"So what happened?" Dean asked as he began to squeeze out the holy water over the gash on Sam's right arm, having his brother hold said arm over the sink.

"There was a-" Sam hissed in pain as the slice began to bubble, and Dean's brows furrowed.

Swallowing, he continued to irrigate the cut with the holy water until the bubbling stopped and the blood dripped cleanly into the sink. He met his brother's gaze, and then quickly clapped a towel over Sam's arm. Sam held it in place with his left hand and nodded for Dean to use the holy water on his chest, standing up and leaning slightly over the sink, gritting his teeth as Dean squirted the holy water over the wound.

It bubbled as well, creating a white froth that finally ran clear after Dean nearly emptied the bottle. Then he dabbed the long cut with normal antiseptic, and Sam bit back a gasp. Dean studied the thin gash and decided it didn't need stitches. Sam sat back down as his brother slathered a good amount of antibiotic on the wound and then covered it with bandages.

As Sam held his right forearm over the sink again to be cleaned by the antiseptic a thought occurred to him.

"What about the-ahhh-gunshot?" he asked, wincing at the sting in his arm. "Do you think anyone heard it?"

Dean put antibiotic on his arm and then covered it with a bandage as well.

"Unless they're deaf they would hear-then again, we're the only ones in this area. I guess we'll find out if anyone comes by. You can claim you were cleaning a gun and it went off accidentally."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "Me?"

Dean smirked. "Like I would accidentally set off a gun…" his face paled and he swallowed, turning to quietly put away the first aid equipment.

Sam stared at his brother, worried at the abrupt change in mood. "Okay, that's it. You have to tell me what these dreams were about. It could have something to do with that thing that was sitting on your chest."

"What thing?" Dean asked, turning back to face Sam again, making a mental note to refill the holy water bottle.

"It-well it was a small fat woman," Sam said.

Dean blinked. "Come again?"

Sam sighed and recounted what he'd seen as the brothers entered the bedroom.

"Wait, so it turned into mist and went into my bed?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, just as you were waking up. I guess it doesn't have any power when its victim is awake."

"But apparently it does when the victim is asleep," Dean mused, staring at the bandage across his brother's bare chest.

Sam followed the stare, and then turned to his duffel bag, pulling out a fresh T-shirt. He grunted as he pulled it over his head.

Dean turned to look at his bed, thinking aloud. "It has to be some form of demon, to make the holy water react like that."

"Yeah, it's definitely not a ghost, the EMF meter didn't pick up anything," Sam said, also gazing at Dean's bed.

Dean turned to look at him. "What? When did you check it with the EMF?"

Sam's mouth opened and closed, and then he gestured to the chairs by the table the laptop sat on. "I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you if you tell me about the dreams."

Dean stared at him, then sighed and shook his head. "You just don't give up, do you?"

"I remember someone teaching me to be persistent," Sam said with a grin.

Dean shrugged. "Fine." He really didn't want to discuss his dreams, but if it had been a creature that caused them…then sharing them with his brother so they could both try and figure out what it was would be the smart thing to do. "Don't mind me if I check it out for myself, though," he continued, grabbing the EMF meter and the thermal scanner and checking over first his bed, then the rest of the room. The readings were normal however, even above the post Sam swore the mist had poured into.

Sighing, he put the items away and took his seat by his brother, to see Sam staring at both motel beds, an intense look of concentration on his face.

"Sam?"

Sam blinked and looked at Dean, and then back at the beds, and then a look of realization passed across his face. "The beds are different!" he blurted.

Dean blinked and said tentatively, "So? I hadn't noticed."

Then he really examined the beds as well, and realized they did indeed look different. His bed had four short posts that were a bit triangular in shape at the top, while Sam's bedposts were a little more rounded. The wood was a similar color, and at first glance and if you weren't deliberately looking for differences the beds almost looked the same. Almost, but then there was a bit of filigree running down the posts of Dean's bed that was absent from Sam's. It looked somehow familiar…

"Evie's!" Sam suddenly said.

"What?" Dean replied, but he knew what his brother was going to say.

"Dean, your bed is the same kind as Evie's. I knew I'd seen it before! And the first victim's house, George Tucker, one of the rooms had a bed like this one too. I'll bet that the other victims probably had new beds where they were living as well-the roommate of the fourth victim had his room redecorated. That's the connection; the demon is living in the beds." Sam finished with an excited look on his face.

"Yeah, but Evie's alive, and it was Justin, not Casey, that got the new furniture. If there is a demon in the beds there has to be more than one. I don't think it's bed hopping. And it's not killing the person sleeping in the beds; it's killing someone the person is close to. Someone they might be dreaming about, the way Evie dreamed of her sister's death..."

Dean's eyes met Sam's and he swallowed; his mouth suddenly dry. Dawning comprehension crept into Sam's gaze and then they both turned to look at the now quiescent, innocent-looking bed awaiting its next sleeper...

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To be continued...Pleasant dreams :)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Still don't own the characters or the show. All I've got is a cat, a '95 Ford and a part-time job that doesn't give me enough to buy the dvd's, so suing would would be pointless :) Thanks so so much for the reviews, Luca, Megan, Beautiful Ally and everyone else! Um, this is shorter and a transitional type chapter, I promise the talk on dreams will happen next chapter, but since I had this written I decided to post what I had instead of making you wait. Will be working on more soon!

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There was a sudden knock at the door that broke the silence of the motel room and the brothers both jumped.

"Hey, are you all right in there?" a deep voice boomed.

Quickly rising, Dean nodded to Sam and went to open the door while Sam grabbed the gun that he'd put back on the night table.

Dean opened the door to a tall beefy man in striped pajamas holding a shotgun. Raising his arms in a non-threatening manner he slowly backed into the room, saying tentatively, "Hey don't shoot, we paid for the room in advance but we're not rich or anything."

The man followed him in, shotgun first, his eyes tracking to Sam who had frozen when he saw the weapon aimed at his brother.

"Drop the gun and put your hands above your head!" the man's voice rumbled.

Sam quickly looked at his brother then back at the man's clothing and then slowly and carefully placed the gun on the floor. He straightened back up and raised his arms, not able to help the grunt of pain as his wounded skin stretched.

Dean's eyes strayed to his brother, a quick flash of concern flitting across them before he once again returned his attention to the man with the shotgun.

"Now I want some explanations and I want them right now. What are you doing shooting a gun in my motel in the middle of the night?" the man demanded.

"Your motel?" Dean asked in surprise.

"You must be Ray, then," Sam said, clicking the pieces in place. "Alice said you wouldn't be back until tomor-today, I guess," he continued.

"You know Alice?" the man asked, slowly lowering the shotgun until the business end pointed at the ground.

"Yeah, nice-looking waitress at the restaurant here. Said you were on a trip to Cincinnati and that when you got back you'd be the man to ask about the renovations done here after the fire," Dean replied, his cockiness returning. He and Sam both lowered their arms to their sides, as it seemed like the man wasn't going to be one of the shoot first, talk later types.

"Yeah, I'm Ray. You must be okay if Alice would talk to you like that. But don't get any ideas; she's married to my cousin. Sorry about the gun, but you can't be too careful nowadays, I heard that there's been some strange deaths since I was away."

Ray placed the shotgun on the table with the laptop and reached to shake hands with his customers, obviously trying to do some damage control. Dean grinned as he shook hands with the man, he would now be easy to get information from.

Ray turned to shake hands with Sam, Sam automatically reaching out with his bandaged right arm as Ray asked, "So what was with the gun? And hey, what happened to you? Did you shoot yourself? Do you need a hospital or anything? We're fully insured but when you signed for the room you agreed not to hold the motel liable..."

"It's all right," Sam quickly assured him. Shooting a look at Dean a sudden idea hit him and he grinned inwardly. "It was a large rat; it must have run into the room when we left the door open. I have a permit for the gun and I was cleaning it earlier so when my brother scared the rat and it bit me I just grabbed the gun and shot at it. It got away though," he finished, deliberately not acknowledging the glare Dean sent his way.

"Oh no, not again! I had the company come and..." Ray broke off, his eyes widening as he realized his slip. "Look, I'll pay for the hospital trip and any shots or medicine you might need and..."

Sam broke in, beginning to feel a little guilty for the guy; after all, the rat was imaginary. "Thanks, but that's not really necessary. It's just a scratch-"

"And he's already had all his shots," Dean finished, beginning to smirk. Sam glowered at him.

Ray visibly relaxed. "Good, I only got in a few hours ago. You sure you're all right?" the manager asked, his expression one of concentration on his customers.

"I'm fine," Sam assured him.

"But since you're here maybe you can answer a question or two. Is this one of the rooms that got refurnished?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, it is, got a deal at the new place, Gutvik's," Ray said, looking at the brothers curiously. "Why do you want to know?"

The brothers exchanged a look at the name of the furniture store. Before Dean could ask if the manager knew what other rooms got refurnished Sam quickly asked, "I noticed that the beds are different, the one my brother slept in has this nice design on it, is there any reason why they're not the same?"

"And are there any more in the other rooms that got redone? And has anyone stayed in those rooms?" Dean got his two cents in.

"Wait; are you guys reporters for that Motel Review magazine? I mean, yeah, the beds are different but the rest of the furniture is the same. They ran out of the standard beds and gave me a deal on this one and they almost look the same so I thought why not, I mean it would have taken days to get the other beds in and I have a business to run. It's only this one and the one in room seventeen but I might as well have waited because you two are the first tourists to check in here since the fire..." Ray shut up as he realized jet lag and lack of sleep were making his tongue run loose.

"If I was you I'd have waited, this one's lumpy, you should return the both of them immediately," Dean said.

"Of course," Ray said, eyeing Sam's bandaged arm. "I can have a new bed delivered here tomorrow, I mean today, I'll return them to Gutvik's, I'm sure they have the other ones in. Or you can change your room, no problem, I'll have Richie get you new keys and..."

"No, it's quite all right, really, he was just joking. We're fine, you go back to sleep, you're right it's late," Sam said, glancing at the clock. Three am. 'Where does the time fly?' he wondered.

"You sure you're all right? I can have a doctor come and..."

"He's fine, and thanks for checking up on us, we really appreciate it. Not many managers of motels we've stayed at would come to check on their clientele at this time of night," Dean said, laying on the charm as he hustled Ray towards the door, watching as the manager carelessly picked up the shotgun as he went by. "Hey, I just gotta know, is that thing even loaded?" he asked.

Ray looked at the gun he held loosely. "Are you kidding? Do you know how touchy these things can be? I just keep it for show. Don't even know where the shells are," he admitted ruefully. "I can't be shooting my customers, you know."

"Yeah, that would be bad," Dean agreed.

"Look, if you need anything, anything at all, just tell Richie. I'll make sure he gets you whatever you need, okay?"

"Sure, thanks, have a good night," Dean said as he finally closed the door.

He turned to find Sam putting the gun away and yawning. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, and now we know where we have to go," Sam said, cracking another yawn. Despite himself Dean yawned as well.

"Cut that out," he told his brother. The mere thought of sleeping in the motel room made his stomach lurch.

"Look Dean, we have to sleep. I know we have to research what this demon is but we're running on fumes, man. You can tell me about your dreams and then maybe we can take turns in the other bed, I think it should be safe if one of us keeps watch in a chair."

Dean swallowed and then abruptly moved, grabbing his weapons bag and knife and salt and heading to the motel's door. "Come on, and bring the gun," he said gruffly to Sam.

Mystified, Sam did as he was told and followed his brother out of the room and to the Impala. Pouring a circle of salt around the car, Dean then put the weapons in the trunk, pulling out a gun first and then grabbing a couple of blankets. He closed the trunk and opened the driver's front door, and Sam, guessing his intentions, stuffed his lanky frame onto the back seats. Dean tossed a blanket back to him and stretched out on the front seats, closing the door. The brothers got settled, and Dean finally relaxed, breathing in the comforting scent of his baby. "That's better," he muttered.

Sam grinned, despite the pretzel shape he had to mold his body to and the mild throb he felt on his arm and chest. His brother was right, this was better. "You're still telling me about them in the morning," he said quietly, and was rewarded with a "Stubborn son of a-".

Soon even breathing was the only sound in the midnight black car as the brothers safely slept, the empty motel bed with the filigree quiescent as no victim was there to stir its hidden danger...

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Thanks for reading :)


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: C'mon, say it with me: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. I do however own an impressive case of writer's block. It's shiny and made from pressed wood, and only managed to squeeze out a tiny chapter this time. Thanks for all your reviews, Megan, Beautiful Ally and everyone :) You do keep me going. At least in this chapter Dean starts to tell Sam his dreams. I'm working on more. (Threatens the wood with a lighter.)

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The gentle patter of rain on the roof woke Sam. He blinked sleepily, wondering for a moment where he was, and then it all came back. Stretching, he grimaced as his chest and arm throbbed. Now fully awake, he looked over the seat at his brother, who was soundly sleeping, head resting on the driver's side window. The sky was a dull gray and the droplets of rain continued to fall lightly, leaving streaks of water on the windows. He grinned when he heard Dean softly snoring. Other than the sounds of his brother and the quietly tapping rain on the roof it was quiet and peaceful.

Sam sighed, and tried to get more comfortable. His knee accidentally knocked into the back of the front passenger seat, jostling Dean's leg. With a snort his brother woke up. Dean's sleep had been blissfully dreamless, and when his body was jarred he snapped awake.

"Sam?" was the first word out of his mouth, before he even took a look around at his whereabouts.

"Right here," Sam replied, and Dean relaxed, glancing out the windshield at the early morning drizzle.

Then he turned to look at his brother, receiving an assessing scrutiny in return. "You okay?" they both asked at the same time.

Sam smiled, and Dean grinned back. Making a wave with his hand, Dean said, "You first."

"I'm fine, just a little stiff. Did you dream anything?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nope. I'm good. How are the cuts?"

"Fine. I'll change the bandages when we go back in the room." Sam replied, noticing his brother tense at the mention of the motel room. 'What?' he wondered, and then realized it wasn't the room that bothered his brother, it was the bed inside of it.

"Dean, you have to talk about it. Just...tell me. What was the first nightmare about? The night we got here, I know you dreamed something. What was it? Maybe it had a clue we can use," Sam pleaded.

Dean coughed and shifted, turning away to settle back on the front seats, facing the Impala's windshield. The rain drifted down, coating the glass with patterns as the drops splashed and spread, creating a quiet haven within the car as though there were in a safe bubble.

He swallowed, watching as a droplet of rain touched the windshield, expanding, and could feel Sam looking at him. Closing his eyes a moment, he shrugged. "I, well, you know," he started.

Sam folded himself back onto the rear seats, watching the rain fall outside the side window. He had a feeling that Dean needed time and quiet to talk, so he remained silent, waiting.

"We were on a job," Dean said quietly. "Ghost haunting a basement. The owners wanted to renovate, but were too scared. You wanted to do more research." He stopped, drew in a breath at the memory. The dream had seemed so real, as though it had really been happening.

He didn't realize he hadn't spoken for minutes when Sam gently prompted him. "And?"

Dean bit his lip, and continued. "We were knocked around. You know, like usual," the ghost of a smile touched his face.

He could hear the slight smile in Sam's voice when his brother asked, "Did you get thrown into a wall?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah, next to a leaky sink. Got all wet. You got thrown into a bookcase," he replied. "Said you wanted to leave and do research. I made you stay and give me a shovel." Then he frowned and swallowed again.

"Then what happened?" Sam asked.

"Found where the bones were and was digging to get to them. But I couldn't reach them. No matter how much I dug, I couldn't reach them," he whispered.

He fell silent again, and Sam quietly asked, "And then you woke up?"

"No. The ghost, it had you. You shot at it, but it threw you into another bookcase," he stopped again, remembering the unexplainable fear he'd felt, the terror.

"And then?" Sam quietly asked.

Dean stared unseeing out the Impala's windshield through the streaks of rain.

"The bookcase fell on top of you. I almost couldn't get it off. When I did…"

Sam swallowed at the pain he heard in his brother's voice. "When you did," he prompted in a whisper.

Dean shut his eyes. "When I did, you, your neck, it wasn't right. And your eyes, you weren't seeing anything. You were dead," he finally got out.

"Oh," Sam said, unable to think of anything else to say for a moment.

Dean tried to block the image from his mind, but it was almost as clear right then as it had been during the nightmare. Suddenly needing to see that his brother was alive and okay, he opened his eyes and twisted, gazing at Sam's intact form. Sam looked back at him, serious, eyes dark with compassion.

"I'm okay," Sam said softly. Then he added, since he knew it had to have been the demon or whatever it was that caused this dream, "Was there anything else? Anything that might give us an idea what we're dealing with?"

Dean heaved in a breath, and then his eyes widened. "There was a picture," he said. "Something was trying to grab you away from me, and everything was whirling around, but there was a picture on the wall, right before I woke up," he paused in thought, trying to remember that detail.

"What was the picture of?" Sam asked, intrigued.

Then realization hit Dean. "It was a woman! A small fat woman sitting in a tree!"

The brothers looked at each other, puzzled.

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Absolutely no offense is meant, the demon is actually based on a real myth. I'll even give you a link to it soon :) Thanks for reading, and have a great day!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Do I own them? Let me count the ways...zero, zero, zero,zero,zero...hmm, nope I don't :) Sorry this part took a little while, on the plus side, it's long. I kind of combined two chapters, as the first one was pretty short. Hopefully it's good, and if so I owe a debt of thanks to an author on Supernatural dot tv named Steffs who wrote the last part. I was getting stuck and she inspired me and she's a really good author herself. Anyways, thanks so much for the reviews, Megan, Beautiful Ally and everyone!

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"Wait a minute," Sam said. "Was it the same thing that I saw sitting on your chest?"

Dean thought for a minute about Sam's description of the demon from the previous day, and then nodded. "Yeah, I think so." He tried to remember any more details, and a misty face flashed in front of his eyes.

"And it's not the first time I've seen it," he admitted.

"The other dreams?" Sam quietly asked.

Dean swallowed. "Yeah," he replied.

They were quiet a few moments, and then Sam sighed. "You want to talk about them?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Dean-"Sam began, but his brother interrupted him.

"I don't want to talk about them. I don't want to remember them. I don't want to think about them, okay Sam!" Dean said, voice rising with each sentence. Then his head fell forward and he exhaled heavily.

"But I don't want them to happen, either. And if Evie did dream of her sister's death before it happened thanks to this creature, then maybe like you said there's something in them that can help stop it." He swallowed again and this time Sam remained silent, waiting.

Dean twisted back around, this time sliding to sit in his familiar position on the driver's side, where he felt he had more control. He heard Sam shifting, and then the patter of the raindrops hitting the ground was suddenly loud as a rear door opened. The door clunked closed, and then the passenger door opened and Sam got in. He shut the door, settling his frame in his seat, and threw the blanket in the back after using it to wipe off some excess water.

"So, the second dream, any details might help," Sam said, studiously looking out the windshield past the streaks of water and not looking at his brother.

"Yeah," Dean said, also facing front and not looking at Sam.

"Started with us chasing the ghost of a pirate," he began. Sam made a small noise and Dean rolled his eyes, "Dude, shut up. The book in the library explained it. That is, until we realized it really is a demon in my dreams."

"I knew you felt better after that trip to the library," Sam grinned.

"Yeah, and let me tell you, there is some weird shit in those books..." Dean shook his head. "Anyhow, we split up to go after it. Only it wasn't a pirate that you found, it was-"he stopped a moment.

"It was..." Sam gently prodded.

Dean bit his lip. "Yeah, it was what we saw on that TV show the other night before we went to the alley. And it had you in that alley and it..."

Sam risked a glance to his left, saw that Dean was staring forward, expression unreadable. He seemed lost in his thoughts, unmoving, jaw clenched, and Sam realized what had probably happened next.

"It killed me, didn't it?" he asked softly, saw the answering nod. Sam tipped his head as well, and turned to face the windshield again; noticing absently that the sky was beginning to lighten some more and the rain seemed a little less intense.

"Focus on helpful details," he suggested without looking at his brother.

Dean grunted but continued, "I shot it but it didn't affect it. It, it killed you anyway, and then just threw your body down like it was nothing. I was holding you," Dean paused.

Sam knew better at that moment than to make a crack about chick-flick moments, so he remained quiet and waited.

"Something keeps trying to take your body away, every dream at the end something keeps trying to tug you away, and then I wake up," Dean finished.

Sam frowned, "You think that means something?" he asked.

"How should I know? You just said to mention details!" Dean replied with his voice raised.

"Dude, chill. I'm right here, I'm okay. It's going to be okay. We'll figure this thing out and beat it, okay?" Sam said, this time turning to look at Dean. His brother swallowed again and turned to face him, and Sam looked compassionately back into pain-filled eyes.

Dean nodded and turned to look out the front again.

"Was there anything else?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No, you were bleeding, and then...wait. There was a pattern in the blood," he continued, his expression becoming more animated.

"What was it?"

"I'm trying to remember, it was right before something was trying to take you away..." Dean's voice trailed off. He closed his eyes, picturing the scene, trying to leave out all the emotions he was feeling. 'Just helpful details' he told himself. Sam, the blood pooling on the ground, forming a pattern...

His eyes snapped open. "It was the same the as the picture, the demon lady in the tree, only there was another figure, it had an ax, I think it was chopping it down," he added.

Suddenly energized, he got up, swinging open the door. The rain had tapered to a slow drizzle and the sun seemed to be breaking through the clouds. Sam got out as well when he realized Dean had headed to the trunk. Lifting the lid, Dean spent a minute poking inside and Sam's eyes widened when he saw what his brother was holding as Dean closed the trunk again.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam hissed, taking a swift look around. Luckily the parking lot was deserted, as his brother carried his items back to the motel room in full view of anyone who might have been looking.

"My job," Dean replied as he waited for Sam by the door.

Sam sighed as he opened the door and let his brother precede him into the room. He shut and locked the door behind him and continued, "Dean, we don't know if this will work. We need to do some more research first and..."

"It's always research with you, isn't it? Sometimes you just need a more hands-on approach," Dean said, as he placed the gas can on the floor by his bed and hefted the ax, a grim smile on his face.

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"Dean, before you go all Lizzie Borden on the bed, think for a minute. Did the dream mean that chopping the bedpost down will kill the demon, or was that just showing what happened? And I don't think Ray will take too kindly to our destroying his furniture. If you do this you might just piss it off, we don't know for sure that what you're planning will work. Besides, there might be more than one of these things; look at all the deaths that occurred in the town. If there is just one, then you doing this might just chase it to another bed, and if there is more than one it might alert the others. We need to research this first, man," Sam said, trying to reach his brother.

Dean paused in the act of swinging the ax, looking longingly at the wood just waiting to be chopped and then back at his brother.

"Which was the post it disappeared into?" he asked, knowing that Sam was probably right, but still…

Sam pointed to the one on the top right of the bed, close to the night table in between the beds. Dean nodded, and then before Sam could stop him he swung the ax onto the top of the post diagonally opposite. It split, cracking down the middle. He swung the ax again laterally, taking off the top of the post. It hit the ground with a soft bump and then he put the ax down. Sam stared at him.

"Feel better?" Sam asked, his brows raised.

Dean grinned. "Yeah. And see, nothing happened."

Both brothers stared at the bed for a minute, but indeed it remained quiet.

"So, either the demon isn't really in the bed, or it left, or it's only in the one post," Sam mused.

"One way to find out," Dean said, reaching for the ax again.

"Dean-"Sam got out, but his brother ignored him.

Visions of holding his limp brother in his arms drove Dean to hack at the post that held the demon which had caused him such torment. One chop was all he got in, however, before a mist came pouring out of the post. The ax was wrenched from his hands as he went flying, smacking into Sam and sending them both tumbling to the ground. The ax was then ejected from where it had been embedded in the post and arrowed straight for the brothers. Dean's eyes widened and he rolled, pushing Sam beneath him. He grunted as he felt a searing pain across his back, and then both he and Sam watched as the mist disappeared back into the bedpost, the wood reforming itself so that it once again appeared undamaged.

"Are you all right?" the brothers asked each other, as Dean slowly got up. He winced at the pain on his back as Sam scrambled to stand.

"I'm fine, what about-Dean, you're bleeding!" Sam exclaimed, noticing that the back of Dean's shirt was sliced and red was seeping down. He saw the ax laying on the ground next to where they had fallen, the blade wet and shining.

Dean grimaced, also noticing the ax and knowing what had happened. "Guess that wasn't such a good idea," he admitted.

"You think? The first aid kit is in the bathroom, let's see if you need a trip to the hospital," Sam said, eyes filled with worry.

"I'm fine, it's not really bleeding much, I think it's just a scratch," Dean said.

"Right, you know that from the eyes in the back of your head," Sam said sarcastically. "Just do me a favor and get in there, please?" he continued, gesturing to the bathroom.

Sam grabbed a small bottle of holy water from his bag just in case. He didn't think he'd need it, but better safe then sorry.

Dean sighed and walked into the little room, flicking the light on. At Sam's look he gingerly stripped off his shirt and stood next to the sink, letting his brother tend to his wound. Sam wetted a washcloth and gently wiped off the blood on his brother's back, then sighed in relief.

"You'll live," he told Dean. "You're really lucky; it's a shallow cut and won't even need stitches. I need to clean it, though."

"Go ahead," Dean responded, hissing as the antiseptic made its presence felt. He could almost see Sam's frown in the mirror. Knowing that his brother hated causing pain, he lightened the moment. "We really have to stop meeting here like this," he quipped.

"Idiot," Sam replied, making sure there weren't any splinters in the wound from the wood the ax had chopped. Satisfied, he let some holy water drip onto the wound. As he'd hoped, there was no effect-the demon hadn't sliced his brother, the tip of the ax's blade had. Apparently the demon's evil didn't affect the wood it inhabited. Swallowing at the close call, he then slathered on antibiotic and began unrolling the gauze.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, that wasn't a good idea. And I was fine, why did you throw yourself in front of the ax?"

Dean imagined for a moment what could have happened if he hadn't covered Sam. The image of his brother's lifeless body in his arms was too vivid. He had gone through it three times already in dreams; he didn't think he could have handled it in reality. The burning pain across his back was worth it to prevent that from happening.

He would have shrugged, but Sam was busy finishing with the bandaging of his back so he settled for, "Had no place else to be right then."

Sam shook his head and stepped back. "All done. Now can we do the research part first?" he asked as he put away the first aid supplies.

"Oh yeah, definitely," Dean agreed. He walked back into the bedroom and rummaged in his bag for a clean shirt. He'd had to throw away the other one. While putting it on he noticed the ax still on the floor. He reached down for it and winced, deciding a painkiller might not be a bad idea.

"Let me take care of that, you can see if there is anything in the journal like that thing," Sam said, coming into the room. He held out the bottle of Tylenol to his brother, and Dean just blinked at him, then accepted the bottle wordlessly. Sam picked up the ax and brought it back into the bathroom to clean it off. They would oil it carefully later.

Sighing, Dean plopped down onto the chair by the table after grabbing the journal and taking two pills, eyeing his bed. Other than the one lopped off bedpost it looked harmless again.

"I'm onto you now, you aren't going to get another chance to kill him, hear me?" he spoke aloud, and then decided he really needed to get a good night's sleep. First however there was a demon to kill.

He was flipping through the journal when Sam came back into the room. He was about to plop down into the other seat when his stomach rumbled loudly.

Dean grinned. "How can you be hungry at a time like this?" he asked.

"Shut up, dinner was a while ago," his brother replied, reaching for the laptop. Dean's stomach suddenly decided to announce its presence as well. They looked at each other, then mutually decided, "Diner."

Dean grabbed his jacket and Sam did the same, both happy to leave the room for a little while. Sam brought the laptop with him, and Dean grabbed the gas can, carefully putting it back in the trunk of the Impala. At the diner they slid into an empty booth, and looked for Alice. A younger woman with brown hair came to their table instead.

"Hi, what can I get for you?" she said with a perky smile.

"Where's Alice today?" Sam asked.

"Oh, it's her day off. She'll be back tomorrow. I'm Lucy, are you staying at the motel next door?"

"Yeah, we are. I'll have coffee and the special," Dean said.

Lucy wrote it down and looked at Sam.

"Same," he said.

"Coffee and two specials coming right up!" Lucy said with a big smile. She turned and walked away, and Dean nudged Sam.

"Get to work," he said.

Sam blinked at him. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother? You didn't even look at her," Sam said, nodding to the lively waitress.

"I'm tired, hungry, and want to get that demon so I can sleep. No fat chick is going to chase me into my car. So do your thing so we can beat it," Dean replied. Then he could have hit himself for letting his emotions get the better of him. Having that ax thrown at Sam must have affected him worse than he'd thought.

Sam stared at his brother, then wordlessly opened the laptop and set to work. He only looked up to nod his thanks when Lucy brought the coffee and then the food, peripherally aware that Dean was looking through the journal. He ate as he researched, and only when all the eggs were gone did he look up.

"Find anything?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, frustrated. "There isn't anything quite like it in here. Some things are sort of close, but no matches, nothing that looks or acts the same."

Sam nodded. "It's the same here, some things that are close but nothing exactly like-"he clicked on a promising link and then paused. "Wait a minute; I think I've got something."

"Yeah?" Dean polished off the last of the sausage on his plate and drained the coffee cup.

"Yeah, I think it's called a Batibat," Sam said.

"A what-the-what?" Dean replied.

"Batibat, a terrestrial demon from the Philippines. They are large, fat women that use to live in trees. When the trees were cut down, the batibat will follow the wood if it is used for a bedpost. If it's used for a bedpost, the batibat will cause bangungnot, or nightmares. It's said to be driven away by biting one's thumb or wriggling the big toe in a nightmare." Sam looked up. "When I grabbed your thumb after that last dream you woke up and that's when it disappeared into the bedpost." Sam turned the laptop so his brother could see the image on the page.

Dean looked at the picture accompanying the small article. "That's her, all right," he grunted. "Does it say how to kill it?"

"Nope, but at least now we know what we're dealing with," Sam said excitedly. He looked for more information as Dean signaled Lucy.

The waitress stopped by the table and dropped off the check. This time Dean flashed her a big grin. "Thanks, can I get another refill?" he asked.

Lucy smiled back. "Sure! Be right back," she said, but before she got far Sam called after her, "Better make it decaf, too much caffeine is no good for him."

"No problem, coming right up," she said.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with me and java, we get along just fine," Dean grumbled.

"Well, you do want to kill this thing, right?" Sam replied.

"Yeah..." Dean said, realizing that Sam had that geek boy look again.

"Well, this article says that the only way to really kill it is to do so in its place of strength."

"So what, I have to get inside the wood somehow? And what does that have to do with coffee?"

Sam sighed. "No, its place of strength is in the dreams. You have to have a nightmare and kill it in the dream."

Dean stared at him. "Wait, isn't there something else?"

Lucy came back as Sam surfed some more. She poured the decaf into Dean's cup, topped off Sam's, and said, "Anything else I can get for you?"

Dean almost said, "Yeah, a way to kill a terrestrial demon that is going around killing people," but he wisely kept that to himself. Instead he said, "No thanks, that'll do it for today," and he gave her a nice tip with the money for the bill.

"Well you come back soon, okay? And enjoy the town; you can get some really good deals." Lucy walked off and Dean immediately turned his attention back to his brother.

"Well?"

"This article says waking with shortness of breath or heaviness in the chest is evidence of a visit by a nightmare demon. This other one says there is a similar version in Thailand called the Phi Am or widow ghost. The ghost comes to steal away the souls of young men during the night. You'll like this part. Some men actually wear lipstick at night so the ghost mistakes them for women. And this last one says that the Batibat will sit on top of a sleeping person and suffocate him or her to death. She causes the bangungot or nightmares which are then declared as the cause of death. It's also known as the sudden unexpected death syndrome, and is characterized by irregular heart rhythms and ventricular fibrillation. It lives inside the houses of humans as long as there is a post there. It forbids humans to sleep near its home, which is why she kills them."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Well I did have trouble breathing, and there were all those people that died of heart attacks. There's no way I'm wearing lipstick though. Any other way to kill this thing?"

"Not that I've found so far. We could try this, see if it works. I can stay awake, have a bottle of holy water handy, we know that will affect it. And you can shoot it in your dream. That should do it."

Dean shook his head as they got up, Sam closing the laptop and hefting it. They headed back to the motel room, Dean trying to find another way as they walked. The absolute last thing he wanted to do was have another horrible nightmare, but Sam seemed to think this was the way to go.

"What about the other beds? What about Evie? Shouldn't we be visiting that furniture place?"

"Look, I know you want to kill this thing, and from what I found on the 'net this is the way to do it. If it works, then the demon is gone and everyone else will be safe. Case closed. All you have to do is go to sleep, have a dream, and kill the demon," Sam replied.

"I don't know, we might be missing something," Dean grumbled as they entered the hotel room.

Sam grinned at him. "Getting cold feet?"

Dean flung down his jacket. "Why me?"

"You're the one she made contact with."

"Only because I was the one who slept in the damn bed."

"Luck of the draw. You took the south side." Sam grinned and threw himself down on his bed.

Both men looked at the empty bed with the single missing bedpost.

"I think I will take a shower first." Dean grabbed his towel and headed for the bathroom.

"You're procrastinating," Sam called after him the grin getting wider on his face. He laid back, hands behind his head and listened to the running water of the shower. "Don't forget to wash behind your ears."

A phrase that sounded a lot like swearing floated out to him.

Dean appeared ten minutes later wet and steaming, a bath towel draped around his middle, another toweling his hair dry. He only winced occasionally from the gash on his back, but the shower had been worth it.

Sam got up and went into the bathroom to get fresh bandages.

"Feel better for that?" he called over his shoulder.

"Sammy, I am warning you, don't start."

"Whhaaat." Sam was all innocence.

Dean absent mindedly went to sit on the vacant bed, got half way down then realized and straightened quickly.

Sam laughed as he came back in and then quickly and efficiently put the bandage on his brother's back, noting with relief that the gash was even shallower than the cut across his own chest. His brother had gotten really lucky, and Sam decided it was time to show this demon they meant business. He tossed the wrappers in the trash can and booted up the laptop again as Dean began to pace nervously.

"Are you sure you've got this right," Dean wasn't really questioning Sam he was just trying to reassure himself that this was the only way. "I've gotta sleep on the bed and let that thing….." He left it unsaid.

"If we want to kill it, yes." Sam checked on the computer running his finger down the screen, reading. "According to this anything else will just banish it to one of the other beds."

"Hmm." Dean still sounded unsure as he grabbed a T-shirt and began to dress.

"What are you doing?

"Getting dressed."

"No. Well you can't."

"What!"

"You can't get dressed."

"Well I am not going to lie on that friggin' bed naked."

"We have to recreate the exact conditions. What were you wearing the other night?"

Dean stared at Sam. He was serious. "Now look Sam, I am not going to kill that thing just wearing my boxers. Not for you not for anyone." Sam shrugged and held his arms out resigned.

"Sonofabitch." Dean rummaged in his duffle bag, and pulled out a pair of boxers.

"Make sure they're clean."

Dean looked up sharply and thought he saw the ghost of a smirk on Sam's face.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Hey, man," again, Sam tried to look innocent.

Dean pulled the boxers on and flung his wet towel at Sam. "Let's get on with this."

He crossed to the bed, turned down the covers and pulled up the pillows up so that he would be half sitting, eyeing the post with the demon in it with trepidation.

"Do you want me to tuck you in?" Sam couldn't resist.

"You're going the right way to getting a smack in the mouth." Dean gingerly sat on the bed, swung his legs up and leaned back. He couldn't have looked more uncomfortable if he had tried.

Sam pursed his lips and blew him a kiss.

Dean ignored this last insult and closed his eyes, not wanting to admit that his brother's antics had actually helped to put him somewhat at ease. He was now prepared to do battle, or go to sleep. In this case, they meant the same thing.

TBC

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Still here? Wow, I'm shocked. :) Anyway, below is where I got some of my ideas from, feel free to peruse these sites, they have great information for stories.

Link-o-rama: (just remove all the spaces-it's the only way they would put it on here, sigh)

h t t p / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / Nightmare From Wikipedia about nightmares

h t t p / en . wikipedia . org / wiki / Bangungot More from Wikipedia about bangungot

h t t p / w w w . angelfire . com / realm / shades / demons / emnightmares . htm My creature came directly from this page-but it wasn't exciting enough so I pepped her up some :) There's an index on the left that leads to links about different creatures-have fun surfing!

h t t p / w w w . mysiquijor . com / MagicCreatures . html Lots of strange creatures here

h t t p / w w w . pantheon . org / Mama page for mythology

Okay, you are now up to date with me-I will work on more soon! Have a great day, and thanks so much for reading.

Oh, and Steffs' story on Supernatural . tv is called Bad Sam; it's in the horror/demon fanfiction section of the message forums. It's very long, (book length!) and very good, if you're interested.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I don't own Supernatural or its characters. I also don't own a classic car. I do however love listening to classic rock. And some of the songs I've heard recently were in the eps I watched :) Thanks again for all your reviews, Beautiful Ally (Please keep writing!), Megan and everyone.

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Sam watched as Dean's breathing began to even out, and knew his brother was asleep.

"Go get her," he whispered, settling himself more comfortably in the chair he'd dragged by the foot of Dean's bed.

He held a bottle of holy water in one hand and a gun with special salt-filled bullets in the other, which he'd gone to the Impala's trunk to get. If need be they would come up with a story for Ray. The ax lay in easy reach on the table, just in case. It was still light out, and the rain had ended. Eating breakfast and researching and Dean getting ready for bed hadn't taken too long. It was a measure of how little rest his brother had received the last few nights that he had fallen asleep so easily.

Sam found himself beginning to yawn and shook his head. He was on guard. If anything went wrong he would simply grab Dean's thumb and wake him. Not wanting to be distracted, he hadn't even turned on the television. The light peeking through the motel room's blinds slowly shifted as time passed, and Dean began to twist on the bed as he entered REM sleep. Sam straightened from his slumping posture in the chair, once more alert.

Even though he had expected it, the sight of the mist slowly beginning to stream out from the post by his brother's head put him on edge. It poured out, and wafted over to drift into a mass above Dean's bare chest. It began to coalesce into a shape, and Sam's fingers tightened on the gun. He consciously had to relax his grip; shooting it would accomplish nothing except to drive it away. Dean had to kill the creature while in the dream state. At least, that was the only way they had found on the internet. Still, Sam couldn't help but tense up in worry as the batibat took full form.

He kept his breathing even, as though he was asleep, and tried not to make any threatening moves. The creature took no notice of him, however, as its attention seemed to be fully on his sleeping brother. Dean was mumbling something, and shifted restlessly under the rotund female shape, which was hovering only a few inches above his body. It was leaning forward, and Sam saw it almost inhaling Dean's breath. Or was it blowing air at his brother? Maybe to manipulate his dreams? He shook his head, wishing they had spent even more time researching. Now that they knew what they were dealing with he could have really used the library's resources. Maybe there was another way to kill the creature? It was a demon, maybe an exorcism? It was too late now though, all he could hope was that Dean would be successful. However, if his brother began to have trouble breathing Sam wasn't going to just sit passively by.

Resolved, he quietly opened the bottle of holy water, knowing that at least that would have some effect. Then, despite wanting to knock that creature away from Dean, he waited, wondering what kind of nightmare his brother was going through. From the distressed sounds Dean was making it wasn't good. Fully awake now, Sam tensed, ready to leap to his brother's aid.

-----

Dean blinked and stared at the familiar place around him. The Bean Place coffeehouse was empty and shrouded in darkness. Dean looked around, but Sam was nowhere in sight. The bookcases seemed to leer at him and he quickly searched the area, sweeping the EMF meter around.

"Wait, what am I doing with this? It's a demon we're after," he muttered. Reaching into his jacket, he put away the item and pulled out a gun filled with wrought iron bullets that had been dipped in holy water. "Now that's more like it," he continued. "Sam! Hey, Sammy?" he called.

He walked around the empty coffeehouse, wondering where his brother was. Sam had been with him on their last trip here, when nothing had happened. Where was he now? And why was he in the coffeehouse? Dean stopped and wrinkled his forehead in thought. There was something he was supposed to do. They had to stop the demon from killing again. They had a plan. What was the plan?

He was startled out of his thoughts when there was a large bang coming from the serving area. Instantly on alert, he walked noiselessly to the counter. Something was rustling around back there…

"Sam?" Dean called softly. The rustling increased, and holding the gun out, he stalked closer, trying to get a closer look at whatever it was in the dim illumination provided from the night lights.

Suddenly a large rat ran in front of him on the counter and Dean fell back with a cry of alarm. It was joined by another one, even larger, and he cursed and aimed the gun at them, then stopped and shivered as something ran over his foot.

"Son of a-" he got out when he felt movement around him and whirled, taking out a flashlight and clicking it on. He moved the beam to the floor and gasped-over two dozen large rats were running around, beady eyes shining reflections in the light. A tail whipped past his leg and he turned again, lost his balance when he felt fur brushing him and fell to the ground.

"NO!" he screamed, and began to just fire the gun randomly.

He heard an evil cackle and looked up. In front of him was the batibat, floating a few feet above the floor. He craned his head back, taking in the large face and small eyes packed inside the mist. Leaves seemed to be twined through her hair and she cackled again, seeming to take great pleasure in his fear of the small animals surrounding him on the floor.

"You b-" he started, then suddenly remembered. He could kill her here! Without wasting another moment he aimed the gun at the misty form and shot for what he hoped was her heart. He looked with satisfaction as the bullet hit its mark, and then aimed another one at her head. He kept firing until the gun was empty, and then paused.

The figure had flinched as the bullets had torn into its body, but it still remained floating a few feet above the ground. Then the batibat cackled again, and Dean blinked. "Shit," he thought, "she's not dead."

"You can't kill me," a whispery voice mocked him.

"Let's see about that," Dean said, getting up and pulling out the silver knife he had in its sheath along his leg.

"Gotta love a lucid dream," he thought, not knowing where the idea came from. Not worrying about it, he rose to his feet in one fluid motion and leapt up, slashing out at the rotund form. He felt resistance and continued to drag the knife through the neck of the creature as he fell lightly back to his feet.

The misty body fell to the ground in one direction while its head fell in another. The rats disappeared and he breathed a sigh of relief. "That should do it," he said aloud. He looked around. So why was he still here? Then he heard a familiar cackle.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," he muttered. The misty shape rose from the ground, the head re-attaching itself to the body.

"You can't kill me with your weapons. But I can kill you," the batibat laughed.

"That isn't going to be that easy, I'm on to you," Dean said. He looked around for something else to use.

"Perhaps. But I can kill someone you care about," it said, and the scene around him suddenly shimmered.

Dean closed and then re-opened his eyes. He was standing outside the diner where the gunman had pulled the fake gun on Sam. He heard a scuffling sound, and then Sam's cry of "Dean!"

"Sam!" Dean ran towards the sound of his brother's voice, which was coming from an alley behind the diner. It was dark outside and he could make out moving shadows in the alley.

Then he stopped dead, shocked at the sight of a large tree seemingly growing out of the pavement. Its branches filled the alley, but Dean's attention was grabbed by one thing. Hanging off a thick limb of the tree was a rope. On the other end of the rope was Sam, neck stretched taut, wheezing, his hands tied behind him, his feet dangling above the ground as he helplessly struggled.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, and started forward, only to be pushed back by the batibat, its long misty arm pressed onto his chest.

Dean watched in fear as Sam's struggles grew weaker and then ceased, his own breath coming in gasps as the pressure rose in his chest. The batibat laughed again, a feathery sound as she released him. Ignoring her, he ran to his brother, who was now hanging limply, body swaying in a faint breeze. Sam's tongue lolled out of his mouth, purplish in color and his eyes were mercifully closed.

Dean shook, knowing it was too late, as he tentatively reached a hand around to Sam's bound wrists. He didn't feel a pulse, and his brother's chest was not rising and falling as it should. Tears in his eyes, he turned to the demon plaguing his dreams.

"Why?" he asked.

The batibat glared at him. "Your kind took away my home. Took away my life. Now I take yours, as my family does to others of your kind," it hissed.

"There's more than one of you, then," Dean said, defeated. He had failed Sam. He hadn't killed the creature after all. This plan sucked. Then he brightened. Wait, this was a dream! It wasn't real. Sam wasn't really dead! At least not the real Sam. The dream Sam still hung lifelessly from the tree. "This isn't real!" he told the batibat, then was taken aback when it threw back its head and cackled loudly. Dean was really beginning to hate that sound.

"That is where you are wrong. I can affect your kind, invade your sleep, make what you think you are experiencing real for you. The others have already taken the dreamers and those they cared about most. Tonight I will take this one, but I will not take you. I will make you suffer long for trying to harm me. You will awaken, and he will be gone. He will die like this, but you will not be able to stop it. Then I will make you see this again and again until I grow tired of your pain. Only then will I grant you death, when you beg me for it. I begged for the sharp weapons to leave my home alone, but your kind did not listen to me. A life for a life," the batibat snarled, and then tugged at Sam, beginning to take him away. She faded into mist and disappeared from sight.

"No!" Dean cried, and then remembered and began to pull on his own thumb. He had to wake up right now.

-----

Dean had been asleep for a little while, and tossed and turned, muttering something that Sam couldn't fully catch. At one point he began gasping for breath, and he had called Sam's name. Sam thought enough was enough and rose from the chair. However his brother's breathing evened out again and Sam waited, within arm's reach of his brother's hand. The figure sitting above Dean's chest still took no notice of him, and he hoped that Dean would kill this creature soon.

Then his hand with the bottle of holy water in it twitched as the batibat turned its head, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Time for you to die," it whispered, its voice sending a chill of fear up his spine.

"I don't think so," Sam said and squirted the holy water, drenching the creature.

"No!" it screamed and recoiled, dissolving back into mist.

"Dean," Sam said, reaching forward to grab his brother's hand. He never made it. Two arms suddenly materialized out of the mist and grabbed his throat, squeezing and lifting him off the ground.

Choking, he brought up the holy water bottle again but one misty hand reached down, knocking the bottle to the ground. Sam countered with the gun, his finger tightening on the trigger but the hand batted that out of his grip as well. He reached up with his now free hands, trying to loosen the hold the one misty arm still held around his neck, but was unable to free himself. Deprived of oxygen, his vision began to get fuzzy as he saw a mist begin to surround him, and then darkness claimed him.

-----

"Sam!" Dean cried as he bolted upright in the bed. He looked around, fully awake, his chest vaguely hurting and his breathing a little labored. His own hurts paled in comparison to his worry, however, when he saw the motel room was empty except for him. The bottle of holy water and the gun Sam had been holding lay discarded on the floor. The batibat had taken his brother.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, hoping against hope that his brother was just in the bathroom, or just outside, or within hearing distance.

The silence after his cry filled the room only echoed his own fears. He was alone.

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Finally! There ya go. Sorry for the wait-next chapter on it's way much sooner. Have a good day :)


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Hi all! And Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate it :) I don't own Supernatural or its characters, but I do get to watch them and enjoy the show, so I'm thankful for that. I'm also thankful for reviews, so thanks Megan and everyone else for reading and reviewing. This is going to be short, and all Sam POV, so hopefully it'll still be okay. I'm working on more, just didn't want you guys to be waiting too long. I freely admit I don't know much about trees and this probably couldn't really happen, but hey, it's a dream tree :)

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Sam blinked, his surroundings slowly coming back into focus. His head still groggy, he tried to move only to feel his hands bound behind him. He looked around, but it was dark, the illumination coming from the moon and a few street lights. He was outside then. Shifting his position, he felt the scratch of rough material around his neck. Adrenaline pumped through his system then and he came fully awake. He was sitting, back propped up against the large trunk of a tree. His head had been tilted back but as he moved it forward he felt a rope's pressure begin to tighten and immediately stilled.

Damn, why did every creature go after his neck? Where was he? Moving only his eyes, Sam tried his best to determine his location. He was in an alley, with the tree he was sitting against improbably growing out of the pavement. It was silent, almost unnaturally so. He glanced forwards, and noticed that his feet were free. Maybe he could stand up and somehow get out of this noose. Slowly, carefully, he began to bring both legs back. He was suddenly glad that he'd been back into a routine of exercising. Using his bound hands to push against the ground and then the trunk of the tree, he eventually managed to get his feet under him. The strain told on his hamstrings as he struggled to keep the rope from becoming taut around his throat, but he was finally standing.

The rope was now loose around his neck, with extra rope hanging off of his shoulder. He reached back to feel in his pants pockets, but they were empty. Great. He looked up, to see the other end of the rope tied off a thick limb of the tree. He didn't think he could climb up to untie it, so he twisted his hands, trying to free them, feeling like he was rubbing his wrists raw. The rope around his wrists didn't budge-whoever had bound him had done too good a job. Right. New plan.

Wait. He'd been with the batibat-it had had him in a choke hold. Where was it? Sam examined the area around him closely, studying anything that could be of use, hoping that the demon would leave him alone long enough for him to free himself. He didn't know where she was and at the moment all he wanted was to get the heck out of there. Then he thought about his brother. Dean! If he was here, where was Dean?

"Dean," he whispered, not wanting to alert the batibat that he was awake. Only silence met his call, and Sam decided to liberate himself first, then he could find his brother and they would kill the demon.

He noticed the roughness of the bark of the tree, and decided to try rubbing the rope around his hands against it. He was at it for a while, but was rewarded when a few fibers came loose. Then he heard a cackling, and knew that his time was limited. Raising his head, he rubbed the rope around his neck against the bark, trying to loosen the noose enough to slip his head through.

"That won't work," a whispery voice mocked him.

"We'll see about that," he muttered, unknowingly almost echoing his brother's words.

There! Sam ducked his head, and felt the rope brush against his hair, then heard the slight slap of it hitting the trunk. He was free. He quickly moved away from the tree, keeping the misty form of the batibat in his sight.

"Where is my brother!" he demanded.

"He's dead, as you soon will be," was the batibat's reply.

Sam shook his head. "I don't believe you," he said.

He knew that demons lied, and there was no way he was going to take this creature's word for it that Dean was...he refused to even think about it. Dean was alive; the batibat was just trying to get to him. Maybe Dean was nearby? He glanced around the alley, hoping to spot his brother, but other than the rotund form of the demon the area was empty. Realizing that he couldn't fight her with his hands restrained and weaponless, and worried about his brother, Sam decided he'd have to bite the bullet and use the one advantage he possessed. He shifted his weight, preparing to use his long legs to run.

The batibat cackled again, and the rope's noose suddenly lifted from its drooping position. It whipped towards him and Sam dodged it, heading to the end of the alley.

'No!' his mind screamed as the rope suddenly looped about his throat again. He instantly stopped, not wanting to die, knowing if he kept going the noose could easily break his neck.

He was pulled back towards the tree, the constant strain restricting his breathing. In moments his back had hit the trunk and he felt the rope beginning to throttle him as it slowly rose.

"Dean!" he cried. He really needed his brother right then, and hoped for one of those last minute rescues they seemed to do all too often.

"He won't be in time to help you," the batibat whispered venomously. "Your kind took away my home, now you will pay."

Sam gasped for breath as he felt himself slowly strangled, his feet leaving the ground. "I'm...sorry. This...won't solve...anything. Please...stop. I'll try...to...help."

His chest heaved but suddenly the rope loosened, and he was able to stand. He took in great gulping breaths as the demon demanded, "How can you help? My home was cut down, moved away to a strange land. Some of my family was killed; others are here but no longer near me. I cannot stray far from where I was put; tell me, what can you do?"

"I can reunite you with the family that is here," Sam said quickly, trying to figure out what to do.

So there was more than one of them. Good, if he and Dean could put them all in one place then they could get rid of them at the same time. They just needed to figure out how to do that.

"You lie. Your kind cannot be trusted. You have already killed my kind. I have the power here, if I let you go then you will try and escape," the batibat hissed at him.

The rope jerked taut again, and Sam desperately tried to remember an all purpose exorcism that might work. Then it hit him. The batibat said she had power here, which meant...was he dreaming? He wiggled his toes, and tried to grasp his thumb.

"This isn't real," he told himself, willing himself to wake up. The air seemed to shimmer around him, and the tree disappeared. The rope around his wrists was gone as well, but the squeezing feeling around his neck remained-which was soon explained by the sight of the batibat, its hands wrapped around his throat. It looked at him furiously.

"I don't know how you saw through my illusion, but you will die just the same. The others all died believing what they saw and felt. I enjoyed their pain and the pain of their loved ones as what they dreamed came true. Your loved one has already seen your death, now I will take your life myself. Then I will slowly kill him as well. A life for a life," the demon snapped as it squeezed his neck, his feet hanging above the ground as he helplessly struggled.

Sam tried to get out the words of the first exorcism he could remember, wheezing as he struggled to hit the batibat. Black blotches began to form in front of his eyes and he knew he was in trouble as he choked out the beginning of the first word. The demon wrung his neck harder and he writhed, unable to speak. "Dean, help," was the last thing he thought as he surrendered to the darkness.

TBC soon, alerts or no :) Have a good day!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hi again, and thanks again carocali, Megan, pandora jazz, Ghostwriter, wcfan and everyone for reading and reviewing even minus the alerts :) Don't know when you'll get the review replies but I do appreciate the time you took to review. I still don't own them-but don't you think just the frustration of not getting alerts entitles us to? Ah well.

A/N 2: Er, I just realized I didn't specify Sam's clothing in the last couple updates. He was wearing his pants with pockets of course and his shirts, but not his jacket. No need for it sitting in the hotel room. I guess my mind was on Dean's boxer-clad body instead :P Sorry about that (hits self on head).

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"Sammy," Dean whispered, looking forlornly at the empty hotel room.

Then he shook himself. The batibat had Sam, and wallowing wasn't going to get him back. He needed a plan. He needed advice; the last plan had failed spectacularly. What would work? Who could he talk to that had encountered this demon? The victims were all dead. Which left-Dean snapped his fingers. There was someone. Lightly leaping out of bed, he ignored his almost nakedness and padded over to where Sam's jacket lay on his brother's bed. Sam had been keeping guard, and had been dressed himself but hadn't needed to wear his jacket while in the hotel room. Dean reached into the pockets, searching, and finally found a card with a number scribbled on it. He also found his brother's cell phone, so calling Sam to find out where he was would be a moot point. Not that Sam would have been able to answer the phone anyway, if the nightmare the batibat had shown him was true.

He resolutely refused to think he was too late and dialed the number using Sam's phone.

"Hello?" a feminine voice answered.

"Evie, I need you to tell me exactly what happened in your dream about your sister. Where it took place, how she was killed, and how close the facts afterwards matched your dream." Dean said quickly into a stunned silence.

"Who is this? How do you know that? Why can't you leave me alone?!" Evie replied, her voice rising.

"I'm Dean, I was there with Sam, you told us about it remember? I need to know, please," Dean said, a little more desperately than he would have liked.

"Dean? Oh, the other one. Where's Sam? He was nice, and-"

"Sam's not available. Look, I just need to know what you saw," Dean said.

"Didn't I tell you? I thought I told you. I did tell you that I went to sleep and when I woke up she was dead, right? You already know that, so why are you-" Evie began.

"You didn't give us any details. I need to know how closely it matched up with reality, any little details that you can remember, please," Dean didn't even realize that he was pleading.

"It's happening to you, isn't it? Look, I might have been out of it but now that I think about it I know that you're not with that paper that you said you were. Who are you really? And where is Sam?" Evie asked.

"I just said he's unavailable and I'm with the Herald. Any details, I need them right now. What happened in your dream?" Dean snapped.

"No. I want you to tell me who you really are first. You're not a reporter and that was painful for me to go through the first time and-"

"Just. Give. Me. The. Details," Dean spit out. "Look, I understand-"

"How can you possibly understand?" Evie cried, obviously getting upset. "She was my sister! Do you know how hard that is? I watched her die in my dream and the next day she really was dead. Why do you need to know so much? Who are-"

"Sam's my brother and he's missing and the thing that killed your sister has him. I need to know what happened so I can kill it before it kills him," Dean shouted into the phone, and then stared at it, aghast.

"Oh," Evie's voice sounded small. "I'm sorry. You've been having the nightmares too then, haven't you? And what do you mean the thing that killed my sister? She, well, the police don't really know what happened, unless you've found out something," Evie finished quietly.

Dean sighed and sat on Sam's bed, rubbing his forehead with the hand not holding the cell phone. "I've found out a lot, but I need to know more. What happened in your dream? Please," he said, appalled that he'd lost control.

"I had a few dreams," Evie began, apparently taking pity on him. "From the first night I slept in that bed Pris bought for me. All dreams ending in her dying in some horrible way. The first one, she fell while hiking up a mountain and broke her neck. The next," Evie drew in a breath, and Dean waited, knowing all too well the emotions the surviving sister was going through. "The next one, she died when she fell overboard. We took a cruise."

Evie was silent for a moment, then asked, "How did he die? In your dream, I mean?"

Dean shook his head, the pain still too raw. "I can't," he replied.

"Please. Just so I know I'm not crazy, that I'm not a monster," Evie pleaded.

Dean shut his eyes a moment, then opened them. "He got thrown against a bookcase and broke his neck," he finally told her.

He could hear her indrawn breath over the phone. "That was before you came to me, wasn't it? That was why you believed me," she said, understanding in her tone.

"Yes, now please. The last dream is important. The one where your sister died the way she did for real," Dean said.

Evie swallowed, Dean heard it in the silence of the hotel room.

"We went skiing. We were having a good time. I'd always wanted to go, but Pris was more into her books and stuff. But in my dream, we went on vacation together. And then, then," she trailed off.

"Then what?" Dean pressed.

"Well, at first I thought it was a coincidence. I mean just that night before I went to sleep I watched this special on the Yeti. But there it was, in my dream. It grabbed Pris and threw her down the mountain and then somehow it started an avalanche. I got down to her but she was buried in the snow. I mean, I know you can't freeze to death that fast, not really, it was a dream. Just a dream. But-"

"You found her and she was dead, frozen to death," Dean finished for her.

"Yes. And the Yeti had this horrible laugh, and it tried to take Pris away from me. And the scene kind of changed somehow, and we were in this alley near the coffee shop. And I was crying, and then I woke up. But, but, this time, Pris was gone. And then they found her body, right in that alley from my dream, frozen to death with nothing to explain how. And I haven't slept in that bed since," Evie admitted. "So, do you think I'm a monster? Did I, did I kill my sister by dreaming that?"

"No, you're not a monster, and you didn't kill your sister. A demon did," Dean said, shocking himself.

"A what? Who are you? How do you know this stuff? Why-"

"Look, thanks for your help," Dean said, thinking furiously. "Don't sleep in that bed ever again. If you do you could die. I'm going to take care of it," he continued, getting up and walking to his bag, grabbing clothes.

"She said he would die like that, so he would be in that alley where I saw him in the dream," he muttered to himself, not realizing that Evie had heard him until she spoke.

"You think the same thing is happening to your brother now? That he could be, be dying right now somehow? You're going to save him, right?" she said.

"Yes," Dean replied, distracted, thinking how he could somehow threaten the batibat enough to release his brother.

"I want to come and help," Evie stated in his ear and Dean started.

"What? No," he said.

"Please, I couldn't save my sister, but maybe I can help save your brother. I can fight this whatever it is," Evie pleaded.

"It's a terrestrial demon and no, you're not coming along. It's too dangerous. I don't even know how to defeat it myself, I tried," Dean found himself saying. He rested the phone in the crick of his shoulder and ear as he drew on a pair of jeans. Then he put the phone down on the table as he pulled on a shirt and then socks.

He picked the phone back up to hear Evie saying, "by terrestrial you mean Earth, right? Pris used to try to get me into that scifi and fantasy stuff she read, but this is the real deal, isn't it? I mean she was killed by a creature from science fiction. She would have loved the irony," Evie talked on, and Dean put on his shoes, then noticed the ax still laying on the table. It hadn't worked the last time, but the batibat was no longer in the bedpost. It was off with Sam in that alley, and Dean had to get there. Maybe if he threatened her current home?

"So if I'd known what could kill a Yeti then maybe I could have saved her," Evie sounded sad. "The special never said. But in those novels it's usually the opposite thing that works, if it's a fire creature then ice can defeat it, and if it was an ice creature then fire could defeat it. If it was a wood creature then fire would kill it too, and if it was an ice-" Evie was prattling on but Dean was suddenly present, all his attention now focused.

"What did you say?" he barked into the phone.

Evie stopped her spiel, and said confusedly, "Which part? You mean it really was an ice creature or something? I mean, I was just putting out these thoughts, I didn't really think-"

"About the wood creature. What did you say?" Dean demanded.

"Oh, well wood succumbs to rot of course but also to fire, it burns it up, why? Oh, and if it's an enchanted creature you have to break the spell somehow too. But what has this got to do with-"

"I've got to go. Thank you and don't sleep in that bed. I'll be there to take care of it." Dean hung up, a light shining in his eyes. He put the phone in a pocket and picked up the ax, swinging it with hard purpose. The blade smashed through the frame surrounding the bedpost the batibat had been using as a home. He swung the ax twice more, until the bedpost fell to the floor severed from the frame of the bed. No mist poured from it this time. He grabbed his father's journal and a small bottle of lighter fluid. After making sure he had both matches and a lighter, he picked up the bedpost, which wasn't quite as tall as him. Whistling Metallica's "Fight fire with fire" under his breath he exited the hotel room and headed to the Impala. He had a brother to save and a demon to burn and exorcise.

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Oh, and did you know you could find videos of Metallica on YouTube? It is so cool. More very soon!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hi again! We're close to the end now, the next to last chapter. Hopefully you all will like it. It's got action, and fire, and romance, and, er, no wait, scratch that, no romance. Shucks, guess you'll just have to do without that part, lol. Let's see, has my ownership of the show or characters changed since last time? (looks through papers) Nope, still don't own them. Thanks so much Megan and everyone for your reviews :) Oh, and I found the exorcism online on a Supernatural website, Winchester-Journals I think. If you're from there, thanks!

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Dean gunned the engine, not caring if it woke up any of the residents of the town. Too much time had gone by and he didn't know how long Sam had left. He guided the Impala down the streets until he reached the diner from his dream. Not wanting to alert the demon he parked and grabbed the items he needed and ran as quickly and quietly as possible to the alleyway behind it.

What he saw made his blood run cold. Misty yet firm hands were tightly wound around Sam's throat and Dean saw his brother writhe and then go limp.

"NO!" he shouted. The batibat turned to look at him, and began to cackle the laugh that he hated. "Let him go, you bitch!"

Raising the bedpost with one hand he flipped the cap off the lighter fluid with the other and quickly drizzled the fluid over the wood. Dropping the bottle he drew out his lighter, flicking it on.

"A life for a life," Dean threw the batibat's words back at it as he touched the flame to the batibat's only remaining home. It ignited and he flicked off the lighter and put it back in his pocket, then waved the flaming bedpost in front of the demon.

"No!!" the misty figure shrieked, and suddenly it threw Sam into one of the alley's walls.

Dean felt his heart constrict as he heard the thud of his brother's body hitting brick, and then saw Sam slide down the wall to lie on the ground in a boneless heap. He would have rushed to his brother's side but found himself battling the demon as it reached for the flaming post in his hand.

It grabbed the bedpost and Dean felt a sharp pain in the side of his head as the wood connected with it. The next thing he knew was an all too familiar feeling of flying, followed almost immediately by an equally familiar jolt as his body slammed into something hard. Blinking, he watched in a daze as the batibat tried to put out the flames on her home and then realized he was lying next to his brother.

"Sam," he said hoarsely, and reached out two trembling fingers to touch his brother's wrist. He held his breath for a moment and then let it out in a relieved rush when he felt the beating pulse. It was faster than it should be but it was there.

"Sammy, wake up," Dean said. He reached up to shake his brother's shoulder. "Sam!" He noticed blood on Sam's temple and the bruises forming on his neck. His own head was splitting and he touched his hand to the side of his head. It came away sticky. "Crap," he muttered. "Sam!"

-----

Sam was drifting in a peaceful dark nothingness. There was no pain, no hurry, just calm and quiet and then an annoying shaking feeling. Words penetrated the blissful silence, an anxious tone that seemed familiar slowly bringing him back to awareness.

"C'mon Sammy, wake up!" His brother's voice was unmistakable, along with his shoulder being shaken.

"Five more minutes, Dean, set the clock to be early," he mumbled. He idly wondered why his throat hurt so much. Was he sick? It might explain his body aches and the chain gang driving picks into his skull.

"Sam, we've got to kill the demon but burning the bed didn't work. We've got to get out of here and figure out something else." Dean said.

Sam gazed bewilderedly at his brother and then looked where Dean's attention seemed to be fixed. Suddenly awareness rushed back as he saw the batibat waving the bedpost around, trying to douse the flames. With knowledge came pain and he gasped.

"Exorcism," he panted. "Without a physical tie to the earth it will cast her back to where she came from," he whispered painfully. Colors began to run together in front of his eyes and he moaned. He tried again to say the first word of the exorcism he remembered but the peaceful painless quiet was calling him and unable to resist he went with it.

Dean clenched his hands into fists as he saw his brother's eyes roll back in his head. Sam was unconscious again but now Dean had an idea of what to do.

"Don't worry, I've got it," he whispered to Sam and pulled out his father's journal. He flipped the pages quickly until he found what he needed. The words seemed strangely hard to read. Then again he had this lovely dizzy feeling going on. "This is not good," he murmured to himself.

He finally managed to make out the exorcism and said it aloud. "Exorcizo te creature arborae in nomine Deo, patris omnipotentis et in virtute Spiritu Sancti." He continued, even though the batibat's screeching was highly distracting, even though reality seemed to blur and a forest seemed to suddenly spring up around him, even though his head was pounding in time with the fire roaring on the bedpost. He managed to say the last word and with a final cry the batibat dissolved into mist and then dissipated. The alleyway stabilized around him, the dream illusions disappearing. The bedpost now lay in charred ashes on the ground. Dean heaved a sigh and then turned to his brother.

"Sam, hey Sammy," he said, trying to get to his feet and failing. The world spun merrily around him and Sam remained unresponsive. Dean realized there was no way he'd be able to drive, let alone drag his brother to the car. Reluctantly he took out Sam's phone and made a call.

-----

TBC-one more time

If you want the translation of the exorcism, it's: "I exorcize thee, creature of trees (I made up that word), in the name of God, father omnipotent and by virtue of the Spiritus Sanctus". Oh, and a last note. If anyone has lost an alliteration fairy you can have her back. She tends to make me use phrases like Sally smiles on Sunday while skating with Sean, or in Sam's case it's his body meeting the brick wall. I can't seem to stop her! She was evil this chapter as you can tell. It can get to be annoying, lol. :P Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Hi again! And now we finally come to the end. I still don't own them, and I'm kinda glad, as although I love the Metallicar she would be a gas guzzler and I only have a part time job at the moment :) Thanks Megan and everyone for reviewing and everyone else for reading, you really kept me going. Hope you all like the last chapter (even with the lucky doctor coincidence-I just couldn't bear the boys to have to be in a hospital right now), and have a great week :) Oh, and by the end I was getting loopy and typing at three in the morning, so my humor muse came out, lol. Sorry about that. This last chapter is dedicated to Beautiful Ally, who helped me name this story, a good writer in her own right who sadly removed all her stories when she got some nasty comments. Please write some more soon!

-----

Dean periodically checked on Sam, but his brother stubbornly refused to wake up, so he inched along the ground to the bottle of lighter fluid and grabbed it, replacing the top. Luckily not much fluid had escaped. He put it back in a hidden pocket and sat by his brother again. To his relief Sam's breathing stayed even and his pulse rate seemed to be calming down. The blood that had trickled from a gash on the side of Sam's head from where he'd hit it against the brick wall had slowed to a stop, and feeling his own head Dean determined his own wound had stopped bleeding as well. It still hurt, but the dizzy feeling was passing and he wondered if he'd done the right thing by calling in outside help. Hearing the rumble of an engine, he realized it was too late for second thoughts. He swept his gaze around the alley but except for the bedpost's ashes on the ground it looked untouched.

A door slammed and quick footsteps heralded his rescuer's approach.

"Dean?" Evie called.

"Over here," he replied and the woman came into view.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" she exclaimed when she got close enough to get a good look at the brothers. The moonlight streamed into the alley and the first faint streaks of false dawn gave her a good enough picture to see that all was not well.

"Oh, just peachy," he grunted, slowly getting to his feet. This time the world stayed flat as it should be and he began to regret calling her.

The regret disappeared when Evie bypassed him to go to Sam, gently turning his brother's head so she could get a look at the gash. She gasped as she saw the bruising around Sam's neck.

"You both need a doctor! Don't worry, I know just who to call. I'll take care of it. Come on, I'll help you get Sam to my car and we'll go back to my house. My childhood doctor lives just next door, we used to call him when we-"Evie stopped and swallowed. "Anyway, he'll help," she finished.

Dean opened his mouth to say something then shut it, and instead replied, "Thanks."

With Evie helping him Dean managed to get Sam situated in the back seat of the blue late model Ford parked haphazardly at the end of the alley. The short exertion had brought the dizziness back so when he started for his own car to follow her he thought better of it and slid into the passenger side when Evie held the door open. She circled around the front and got in the driver's side and a short while later they were pulling into the driveway of her house.

"We'll get him inside and I'll call Dr. Gregg," Evie said.

Dean nodded and got out, and after opening the back door he gently shook his brother's shoulder.

"Come on sleeping beauty, time to wake up," he said, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

"Since when do you read fairy tales?" Sam croaked, eyes opening to a slit.

Dean grinned, his aches dissolving as if by magic. "I don't, but a young twerp used to sing songs from Disney movies when he got back from visiting his friends. Used to annoy me to no end."

"Oh my god," Sam said, "You remember that?" His eyes opened fully and he groaned as he sat up from his slumped position. He took in the car and his brother and…Evie?

"What happened?" he rasped, raising a hand to his throat.

"Well I managed to finish the exorcism and sent that chick back to hell but I wasn't going to haul your sorry bleeding butt into my car and Evie here knows a doctor so we're at her place," Dean said, giving Sam a once over. His brother was pale but at least conscious and aware of the present.

"Come on, there's a couch with your name on it," Dean continued, giving his brother a hand out of the seat.

Sam swayed when he was finally upright so he reluctantly accepted the woman's support as well as his brother's as he made his way into the house. He collapsed gratefully on the couch, noting that the blue blanket had been moved to the side and the living room was actually clutter free.

"Hey, guess the maid has been in," Dean said, noticing the same thing.

"I was feeling better," Evie admitted, and then gently pushed Dean down to sit next to Sam. "You need to rest too. You looked like you were about to fall down. I'll make the call and be right back," she finished.

Dean watched as she walked into the next room, then heard the one sided conversation as she talked with someone, presumably the doctor. He was wondering again if this had been the best idea, when he felt as though he were being watched. He turned his head to see Sam scrutinizing him. Caught, his brother lifted a hand to gently touch Dean's head. He batted it away.

"Dude, cut that out. I'm fine," he said.

"How did that happen?" Sam asked, concern lacing his voice.

Dean sighed. "That misty bitch hit me with the bedpost," he replied, quickly filling Sam in on events while his brother had been out of it. He then demanded to know what had happened while the batibat had his brother, and Sam summarized his own experiences.

Evie then walked back into the room with three bottles of spring water. "I thought you could both use a drink," she said, handing them each a bottle and then opening her own. "Dr. Gregg should be here in a few minutes. Is that thing, whatever it was that killed my sister, gone?" she asked.

"Yeah, it burned to a crisp," Dean said with a smile. It was close enough, anyway.

Evie smiled back, her face lighting up. "Thank you! For taking care of it and for letting me know I'm not crazy. This is on me," she said, as the doorbell rang. She opened the door to admit a portly balding man with glasses.

"Dr. Gregg thanks for coming so early. You know that the wait in the emergency room at this hour of the morning is horrendous and my friends here needed help right away," Evie said graciously, allowing the man to enter and then closing the door behind him.

He nodded at her and walked into the room, peering at the two young men seated on the couch. He placed his black bag on one of the armchairs and opened it as he responded to the woman who had woken him from a light sleep.

"Well I know what you went through and I did say if you needed anything to call me, I just didn't expect it to be this early or for someone else," the doctor replied. "Now let's see what we have here," he continued, tsking as he shone a penlight into Dean's eyes.

"Hey! I'm fine, go blind someone else," Dean said, blinking.

Sam chuckled only to have the light switched to him. "I'm fine too," he muttered, gasping as he turned his head to avoid the beam and having the miners start drilling into his skull again.

"Yes, I can see that," the doctor said dryly, a short while later finally completing his examination of both of them, then cleaning and dressing their wounds.

"Will they be all right?" Evie asked solicitously.

"Oh yes, they'll live. No broken bones, no sprains, no apparent concussion. Your friends are quite lucky for having been mugged," the doctor said, closing his bag after taking out two items and referencing the excuse Evie had given him over the phone.

"Thank you!" Evie said, smiling at the doctor.

He handed Dean a bottle. "I prescribe good old fashioned bed rest and pain medication, and for you," he turned to Sam, handing him a tube, "the same and put this cream on your neck, after you're done with an ice pack. It'll heal the marks faster," he finished.

"Thanks," Sam said, taking the cream. He nudged his brother.

"Yeah, thank you," Dean said.

"You're very welcome," the doctor replied. He turned to Evie. "I suppose by calling me here you don't want to report this?" he said with a shrewd look to the young woman.

Evie glanced at the Winchesters, noting Dean's alarmed look and Sam's knowing one, and then turned to face the man she'd called. "Actually, that's right. We don't want any trouble, and since my friends are going to be okay…" she trailed off.

"Very well, I normally would but you've been through enough. If you should change your mind, you know where to find me," Dr. Gregg said, grabbing his bag and walking to the door.

"Yes, and thanks for coming," Evie said, walking to the door to open it.

She talked a little more to the doctor, Dean not catching the whole conversation, but he lip read the word 'check' and the doctor nodding, and decided she was settling their bill. He turned to Sam, to see his brother yawning and then grimacing.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked. He was relieved to know that Sam would be fine, and found himself cracking a yawn as well.

"Yeah, guess we should get going," Sam said, but before he could get up Evie was back.

"Oh no you don't. You are both going to rest right here until you're better," she said, giving a warning look to both brothers.

"Well I for one don't think I'm going to get any sleep, and anyway, I wouldn't sleep in the beds, at least not until we take care of them," Dean said, his eyes scrunching as another yawn made itself known.

"I have camping gear, you both need to rest and you need an icepack," she said, turning to Sam. "Neither of you should be driving anywhere just yet. I want to help, please, let me, for Pris," Evie said, eyes shining.

Sam gave her an understanding smile and turned to look at his brother with what Dean liked to call his puppy eyes. Dean heaved a sigh. "Fine, we'll stay. We'll rest, and then we'll exorcise your beds, and then we'll go get my car and finish the rest of them."

"And I'll go with you!" Evie said excitedly. "There's a new play opening at the local theater, so people should be out at that tonight. I'll be right back." She left the room to go to the kitchen, returning with a bag filled with crushed ice. "Here," she said, giving it to Sam.

Before Dean could make his arguments about her going with them known she disappeared to her garage to get the sleeping bags. She came back with a mat and two expensive sleeping bags which she positioned on the floor next to the couch.

"Here, I thought maybe you can sleep on the floor and Sam can have the couch, I'll double the sleeping bags, it's surprisingly comfortable. I'll just sit in the chair and read," Evie said.

"I'll take the floor," Sam said, preparing to rise.

"No you won't, I will, not gonna sleep anyway," Dean said, first opening the sealed bottle of Tylenol the doctor had given him. He popped out two pills and handed them to Sam, then took two for himself, chasing them down with a swig of water. He settled down on top of the sleeping bags, deciding that Evie had been right. It was comfortable.

Sam stretched his frame out on the couch, sighing in relief as the painkiller began to take effect. He removed the bag of ice, his neck feeling a lot better. Evie silently took it and went back into the kitchen. When she walked back into the living room, both brothers were out like a light.

"Pris, you would have liked them. Miss you sis," she murmured as she took a seat in one of the armchairs, picking up one of her sister's novels. As the sun rose in the sky outside the lone sister kept watch over the sleeping brothers that had avenged her sibling's death.

-----

"That was a bit harsh," Sam said to his brother several hours later as he sat in the passenger seat of the Impala.

"Look, there was no way I was going to let her come along. It's too dangerous," Dean replied. His answer was belied by the guilty look he wore as he drove.

-----

After sleeping for a few hours Dean had awakened to find Evie half asleep in one of the armchairs. He stretched, feeling his bones pop and then rose from the sleeping bags, pleased that his head didn't hurt and that the dizzy feeling was gone.

"Hi. Feeling better?" Evie asked.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Thanks," he added, and turned to look at his brother. Sam was still asleep, chest rising and falling rhythmically, and Dean felt something inside ease.

"You're welcome. I'm glad I was able to help save him," she said softly.

"Yeah, me too," Dean replied.

The sound of voices woke Sam from a sound and dreamless sleep. His throat ached but his head at least felt clearer. He looked up to see two pairs of eyes examining him.

"Uh, morning, or afternoon I guess," he said.

"How you feeling, Sammy?" Dean asked and Sam's eyebrow rose. Dean must feel comfortable in front of Evie in order to call him that he thought.

"Better," he replied honestly and his brother nodded in approval.

"I'm glad," Evie said with a smile. "Are you hungry? I can go to the diner and get some food to take out."

"That's not necessary," "Sure we'd love it," both brothers responded at once.

Evie blinked. "Well it's no trouble; I was going to pick up my dinner anyway. What would you like?" she asked Dean, who had responded in the affirmative.

"Whatever you're having will be fine, just get three of them," he replied.

Sam opened his mouth to object, but was silenced by a look from Dean.

"All right then, I'll be back in a little while," Evie said, rising and heading to the door. "Just make yourselves at home. We can talk about what we're doing when I get back," she said and then left.

Dean went to the window and looked out; once the Ford was out of sight he turned to Sam.

"Okay, find something that can chop off a bedpost, we've got a few minutes to do an exorcism," he told his brother.

"Wait, what?" Sam asked, puzzled.

"Was I not speaking English? We've got to get that other misty witch out of Evie's bed before she comes back. Burning the post and the exorcism worked, so it should do the same thing here. Come on, chop chop," Dean said, heading to the garage.

Sam shook his head slightly. "Dude, I thought we were going to wait for her, after all it's her bed," he said, heading towards the kitchen.

"Think she has an ax in here? I don't have ours with me," Dean's voice floated to the kitchen where Sam was industriously opening cabinets.

"I doubt it," he called back, then muttered "Bingo" when he saw the electric carving knife.

"Found a shovel, it's more work but it should get the job done," Dean said, voice getting louder as he entered the kitchen.

"Or we could use this," Sam said, producing the expensive looking cutlery with the cord. "I think I saw this on a late night commercial once, it cut through a two by four," he continued.

"Yeah, that should work," Dean approved, and the brothers headed up to Evie's bedroom, Sam snagging the blue blanket on the way.

"So the batibat should be in her bed, right? Because it was in yours and you were the one having the dreams, and she had the dreams too. But which post?"

"Well, I'll just start cutting. It'll probably come out when I cut the right post and then you can start exorcising it while I set it on fire," Dean said, having dropped the shovel just inside the door. Taking out the lighter fluid from the pocket he'd hidden it in, he pulled out a lighter as well and plopped the items behind him on a bureau.

"Maybe I should cut the posts while you say the exorcism," Sam said, deliberately clearing his throat and hoping his brother had noticed his hoarseness. He placed the blanket on the bureau next to the other items.

Dean blinked, the idea of Sam anywhere near where one of the demons were hiding was contrary to all of his protective instincts, but his brother did have a point.

"Fine," he finally allowed, taking out the journal and flipping to the right page, "but we'll get you some lozenges or something and you can take the next one. And be careful."

"I will," Sam replied, and plugged the carving knife into a handy wall socket. He looked at Dean, who nodded, and then turned it on and started slicing into the post nearest the wall. It came away from the frame of the bed easily and then fell to the floor; the knife really was all it was cracked up to be. 'Guess you get what you pay for,' Sam mused as he waited, but nothing happened.

Shrugging, he started slicing through the next bedpost when a familiar white mist began to pour out of it. Shooting a look at his brother he quickly carved the post away from the frame and then turned it off, dropping the knife and grabbing the post. In fluid motion he picked up the lighter fluid and drizzled the post with it and then dropped the fluid and grabbed the lighter, flicking it on and setting the post on fire.

Dean began to read the exorcism. The batibat screeched as it took form, and reached out its arms to Sam to take a swipe at him. He dodged out of the way, dropping the flaming bedpost as his brother's voice rose, speaking above the crackling of the fire.

With a scream the batibat went for Dean, but before the demon could reach him he said the last word. The scream cut off abruptly and the plump form dissolved back into mist and dissipated. Sam beat out the flames with the blanket, coughing as smoke entered his irritated throat.

"You okay?" they asked each other, getting affirmative nods. Dean went to the upstairs bathroom, returning with a wastebasket filled with water, and drenched the remains of the bedpost. The brothers then looked at their handiwork.

Evie's bed had collapsed on one side, one bedpost was on the floor, and a wet charred area was in the middle of her bedroom along with the smell of smoke.

"Well, at least it worked," Dean said philosophically.

Sam stared at him, and simply coughed.

"Right, lozenges. Be right back. Wanna call a cab?" Dean disappeared into the bathroom before his brother could splutter a reply.

-----

Dean had found cough drops in the medicine cabinet. After swiping them and a few bottles of water from the fridge, he cleaned up the mess as best he could and put the carving knife and shovel away. Sam had called a called a cab and it was there shortly. Sam left Evie a note and soon the cab had dropped the brothers where Dean had parked his car. It was now early evening but instead of going into the diner to eat Dean convinced his brother that it would be easier to get takeout from a fast food place. Sam sighed and acquiesced, and after eating in the car Dean drove to the first victim's house.

"I still think we should have at least waited for her," Sam continued his train of thought.

"Well you left a note, right?" Dean said defensively. "She'll get over it; she wasn't going to sleep in that bed anyway. All we have to do now is the same thing to the other beds of the other victims; destroy any other beds like it at Gutvik's and blow this town."

Sam shook his head, but had to agree with his brother's logic. The food and liquid and cough drops had helped, and he'd put the cream on his neck, so he performed the exorcism at the still empty house. Dean was back to using his trusty ax, and in three whacks had the bedpost with the mist coming out of it separated from the bed. He lit it on fire and then threw it on the flame retardant blanket he'd gotten out of the Impala's trunk. When the misty batibat demon took shape he drenched it with a ready bottle of holy water as Sam read the exorcism. It shrieked and then dissolved, and Dean dumped the bucket of water on the slightly smoking remains of the bedpost. The whole operation was over in minutes once started.

Grinning, the brothers alternated at the next house and then the next, happily finding that the people apparently didn't want to stay in their homes.

"Evie did say a play was starting tonight, I guess everyone went," Sam mused.

Dean wasn't about to question their luck, he just accepted it and said the Latin words in record time at the fifth house. "I win, beat you by twenty seconds," he hooted as the brothers left another broken bed behind. They had gotten the demon exorcising down to a science by then.

"It's not a race, Dean," Sam replied, belying his words as he quickly picked the lock to the closed furniture place.

The two quickly made their way to the bedroom showroom area, carrying what they needed. "Shit, this place is huge," Dean said as they went past bathroom fixtures, dinettes, and what seemed an acre of couches and armoires.

"Probably why they can keep their prices down, they do a volume of business," Sam replied, focused on the area ahead of him.

They finally reached the beds, seeing a couple of dozen of them-but only two with familiar looking bedposts.

Dean set his watch. "Faster one wins, slower one does the next wax job," he stated.

Sam shook his head but proceeded to say the exorcism faster than he had before. His time beat Dean's by two seconds. The demons exorcised, they headed to the office to make sure the beds were the last of the shipment. They were, and Sam noticed that that particular model had been "discontinued".

"Well that's that," he said as they got back in the car, settling back with a sigh. He patted the dashboard and chuckled. "I won, by the way."

Dean grumbled. "I do a better job than you anyway," he said. Sam laughed, and Dean decided that a wax job was worth it to hear his little brother laugh like that.

They went back to the motel and grabbed their things, and Dean walked to the office to drop off the keys. It was full night, and the freckle-faced young man that had been there when he checked in was there now. He nodded and then dropped an extra fifty dollars in cash onto the counter.

"What's that for? Your room's paid," Ray's son said to him with a frown.

"Yeah, it's for damages. My brother got a little bored and took it out on the bed. Shouldn't be a problem though, I hear that the furniture place is having a sale," Dean said.

He turned and left before the kid could comment, and slid back behind the wheel of the Impala.

"Want to say goodbye to Alice before we go?" Sam asked.

"Nah, I want to be in the next town by daybreak. Find a place that has rollaway beds," Dean said with a grin, glancing at his brother.

Sam grinned back and the midnight black car left the parking lot, its taillights shining in the night as it stretched its wheels on the open road.

The End.

Thanks again so much for reading and reviewing, this has been a blast to write. Now I can take some time and just read and catch up :) Bye, and have a great week!


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